Underground
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Written for the NFA Very AU challenge. Thus, it is...very AU. You have been warned. Tim and Ducky centered with appearances by nearly ever guest star on the show. Minor character deaths. Now complete. Will post one chapter per day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Written for the NFA Very AU challenge. This is a very long story (40 chapters) that completely took over my brain. It's centered on Tim and Ducky, and you'll see pretty much everyone else as well. It takes place far in the future when all human beings live underground. The Very AU requirement is definitely present.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to DPB and the NCIS franchise. The world, the OCs, etc. belong to me. In any case, I'm not making any off this.

* * *

**Underground  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

_...and Man was not meant to dwell underground for all time. The real world, open skies, freedom to move about an entire world, that is our destiny. The war that forced us below the surface, the destruction it wrought, that cannot last forever. Millennia of works from ancient times to now show us that our caves are not our natural habitat. We are _MEN_ and we cannot be kept down here forever. The conspiracy that would tell you to deny what is fact would keep you down. That cannot be. It _must_ not be._

A creak brought Tim's head up and he looked around furtively. If someone knew... A cart appeared and he sighed with relief as the old, old librarian threaded his way through the stacks, replacing books, realphabetizing them...he was nearly deaf and going blind. He was also Tim's employer...meaning that Tim did most of the work because the old man was nearly at death's door. This was a good day (meaning slow) and Tim had hidden himself at the back of the library, right beside the rock walls that defined everything that was bad about his life. It was the best place for privacy because the library was a fairly popular gathering place...during the day.

At night, however...

Tim waved at the old man who gave him a wrinkly smile before continuing on his way. As soon as the cart passed, Tim went back to typing. Yes, he could tap into any of the numberless databases. He could use the library computer, his home computer...anything. ...but this Remington he had discovered in a box in the storage area of the library...it was perfect. No one could copy this. No one could trace it...not even by power usage because it had none. Of course, his copying could be tracked...and they certainly tried, but Tim was better at using computers than the average citizen and knew how to avoid the traces. No one would suspect _him_ of fomenting discord with the life they were forced to live.

_Night and day. They are diurnal cycles we all live by. Even those who control us have to admit that these caverns are set to follow a diurnal cycle of light and darkness. Why? Why twenty-four hours when studies have shown that humans actually have a diurnal cycle of approximately twenty-_six_ hours? Surely, this would make no sense if not for the fact that the world we currently live in (and should be living _on_) actually rotates in a twenty-four hour cycle as the real science books tell us. Surely, this is yet another evidence that we belong on the surface, feeling the sun they tell us does not exist, seeing the moon in its many phases, watching the stars twinkle far away._

Tim sighed and leaned back. He dreamed of those things so often that it amazed him to remember that he had never seen any of them himself. He had never seen the sun, the moon, the stars... He had never seen the endless sky rather than the rocky ceilings soaring high above his head. He looked sourly up at them. He had not seen the sky...nor had his parents, or grandparents, or great grandparents...and on and on. It was difficult to find good sources to tell him _when_ the war had occurred. The sources certainly existed, but finding them, reading them...and not letting his almighty leaders _know _he was reading them...that was much more difficult. The librarian himself had mentioned seeing books about the war, about the times before the war...but he couldn't tell Tim where they were, not because he didn't know (Tim suspected anyway), but because he was afraid of being found out.

_Let us consider what we know. Fact: There was a war. It was a terrible war. It was a war decided upon by leaders, leaders who were supposed to be speaking for the people. These leaders made decisions. They probably told the people that it would be the war to end all wars. ...and in a way, it was. ...because they destroyed the world in the course of the war. Finding this information is difficult, but possible. The leaders don't want us to know that there was a war. They don't want you to think about what that war means to us, to our history...to our future. The war was probably nuclear in nature. There is too much evidence to suppose that the surface wasn't nearly decimated by the bombs that were probably launched at the opposing nations._

Tim suspected that the librarian was much more aware of what he was doing in these back corners than he let on. He wasn't senile by any means...but he also hadn't made the slightest effort to curtail Tim's efforts. They didn't talk about it. It was safer that way.

_You might try to protest and say that we are taught about the war in school. How could I claim that the leaders don't want us to know about the war when it is taught? Think about it. It is useless to deny all knowledge of a war. Collective memory is too strong for that, even after all this time. However, think back to your school days. Think back to the lessons taught to you. Think about how it was presented. Was this the war that drove us underground? No. This was a war that brought us back to our origins...it put us where we belonged. Underground. Safe from all the dangers that are found in the open air. Safe from the sky falling down on our heads._

A sardonic smile crossed Tim's face as he read the sentence he'd just typed...the sentence _fragment_ he'd just typed. These weren't grammatically correct, but they were far more effective than boring prose. No one listened when he spoke to them in reasoned tones. They listened when he was as sensational as the newspapers...as the dime-store novels...as the tabloids. The newspapers had to report things that happened...like that cave-in last month. No one would forget that in a hurry. Nearly all of Sub Phoenix had been buried in the rubble. Thousands had been killed. They were still trying to figure out what had happened. Tim could have told them. The sky had fallen...fallen on their heads. Would this happen on the surface? Well, he had to admit that he didn't know. Probably, there were other disasters waiting to happen up there as well. ...but at least they wouldn't have to worry about the sky falling.

_Fact: Mankind did _not_ always live underground. Yes, you can point to those who lived millions of years ago. We still have the preserved drawings from many thousands of years before...but that doesn't negate the fact that we belong on the surface. We belong in the sun. Why else would the sun lights be necessary? You can't try to tell me that the ancient humans had sun lamps. Right. Along with their invention of the wheel, they also put up sun lamps deep inside the caverns. ...and I have a bridge to sell you. Not even our glorious leaders can deny that we _used_ to live above ground. They know...probably better than I do, just when our sojourn on the surface was ended. They know...and they are keeping it from us. We are under _their_ control down here. No, I do not think that the cave-in at Sub Phoenix was a plan because a surface cell was growing there. I think it was a tragedy. The people our leaders want to stop, they make disappear. No fuss. No mess._

Tim jumped as his wristband began to vibrate. He'd be late if he didn't leave right now. Carefully, he pulled out the finished page, picked up the Remington and then ran to the special wall. It was the wall that held everything he valued. ...well, almost everything. Sarah wouldn't fit inside. Tim smiled as he thought of his sister. She was his only family after the destruction of Sub Salt. He could still see, in his mind's eye, the water from the broken dam filling the cavern as he held Sarah in his arms and watched the rest of his family die. Mother, father...three brothers and a baby sister. They had all perished because there was nowhere to escape to. Once the cavern filled with water, there was nothing else. No open air to flee to. Just a sixteen-year-old boy and his eight-year-old sister at the very top of the cavern. They had been there for so long before rescuers finally came, before they finally figured out how to drain the cavern. Tim looked at the holograph of his family. He kept it in this special place because that was his whole world...encased in rock.

He set the typewriter on the shelf, stored the pages he'd typed today and closed it all back up, hidden within the walls of the library. He'd be ready for another printing soon. Soon enough, Thom the Gem would publish another diatribe against being trapped under the rocks.

...but in the meantime, he had to get to his night job. He smiled to himself at the multiple lives he led. Menial librarian by day, revolutionary in secret...

...and lounge singer by night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On his way to the club, Tim stopped to see one of his parents' friends, one of the few who had survived the destruction. Dr. Mallard, or "Ducky" as Tim called him, expert doctor, medical examiner, psychologist. He was a transplant from the northern part of Sub Wales...and one of the few people Tim counted as a friend. Not that he had trusted Ducky with his secret, but Tim had very few friends, and that had always been the case. He just couldn't seem to make them or keep them once he had them. ...except for Ducky.

It was one of the problems of being a certified genius, he supposed...although he had often wondered what it was that _made_ him a genius because he really couldn't fathom people not being able to do what he did. Maybe that was why he holed up amongst the printed word, kept more as a museum than anything else, rather than plugging into the worldwide matrix. He only had to read something once and then he mostly remembered it. Not exactly, but he could distill it down to its important parts and he could _analyze_ it. That was why the lessons taught about the war didn't make sense to him. It was too neat...and years of reading had taught him that war was never neat. It was horrific and messy. People died...and so did the land.

These thoughts consumed him as he rode on the underground (a term that made him laugh when he compared it to the meaning of the word before the Descent. Before it had meant mass transit running beneath the surface of the earth. Now, it was in about the same place but that meant it ran _above_ all the cities, hooked to the roof of the caverns and tunnels). His eyes weren't on the view. He loathed the view. He allowed his mind to wander and wander it did. ...back to Ducky. He had recently brought his nephew, Jimmy, to become his apprentice. He was awkward as all get-out...and for Tim to think that was saying something. He tended to keep to himself, though, much like Tim did...and they didn't really interact much. There _were_ rumors about him, that he had been from one of the seabed colonies...

"_Please hold on. The tram is coming to a stop."_

Tim stood and waited for it to stop. Then, when the doors opened, he stepped off with the crowd and walked with them until the lift descended back to ground level. The cynical side of Tim wondered why they didn't call it _under_ground level. It was lower after all. These thoughts carried him through the streets to the unassuming Mallard home. ...at least, from the outside it was unassuming. Inside, it was much fancier. Ducky was at the back end of a rather prestigious life and his home showed it.

"Timothy, dear boy!" Ducky opened the door before Tim got anywhere near it. Good security system.

"Ducky!" Tim returned. He'd always been one of the few sources of happiness in Tim's life, one of the few places that cynicism didn't rule. "You know, my name isn't really Timothy. It's just Tim."

"Tim does not have enough length to encompass all you are, lad. Timothy has much more scope."

"Hey, Tim," Jimmy said softly.

Tim jumped and looked at the stairs where Jimmy was just coming up from the basement. He always seemed to appear when least expected.

"Hey, Jimmy. Cut up any bodies lately?"

"Timothy," Ducky said with mild reproof, causing Tim to flush.

"Nope. Quiet today," Jimmy replied indifferently.

Tim grimaced as Jimmy continued on his way, completely unruffled.

"Timothy, that was unkind."

The grimace turned to a wince. No matter how old he was, Ducky was the only person in the world who could make him feel lower than he already was...and since they were at least a mile below the surface, that was saying something.

"I know, Ducky."

He wasn't sure _why_ Jimmy rubbed him the wrong way. Part of it was probably plain old jealousy. Ducky was _his_ friend...and Jimmy had taken that privileged place. Tim knew it was stupid, but part of him did feel that way. Another part was probably jealousy at Jimmy's utterly unflappable personality. He was awkward, but he didn't get flummoxed by anything he saw as Ducky's assistant, whereas Tim had never been able to get over the nausea he felt when seeing a dead body. Dead bodies...being eaten by the cave crawlers who still lurked in the unlit portions. Tim swallowed as he saw, in his mind's eye, the fate of his family's bodies.

"Timothy." Ducky's voice came from far away. Tim felt himself turned toward his friend and shaken. "Timothy, come on back, lad. It's all right."

Tim swallowed again and tried to push the image away. That was the fate of all the mass casualties. They could deal with the dead easily enough when it was a product of natural aging, one at a time...but so many at once...they had to get rid of them somehow. Putting them out for the cave bugs to take care of made logical sense... except when it was one's own family getting devoured by...

"Timothy!"

Tim shook his head and was embarrassed to feel tears on his cheeks.

"As I've been telling you for years, this obsession is unhealthy. You really should speak to someone about it, my boy. Sarah hasn't had this kind of reaction and she was also there."

"She never saw, Ducky."

"Neither did you. No one is allowed into the mass graves."

"They're not graves, Ducky," Tim said in a voice low to hide the shaking. "They're not graves. They're...feeding pits. That's what they are...and they're disgusting."

"Will you be able to perform in this state?"

"Of course. I'll be fine by the time I get to the club." He cleared his throat and swallowed one more time.

"You are wasting yourself, Timothy."

Tim didn't answer. This came up a _lot_.

"You're working at a backwater library and singing at a club! You're a genius, lad. You could be giving so much...even avoiding the places you cannot be! Why are you wasting your life like this? ...sometimes I wonder what your parents..." He stopped abruptly.

"Have you heard from Sarah lately?" Tim asked, choosing not to reply to the unfinished statement. "I called her last week, but I didn't get any answer."

"She told me she was coming back to Mammoth soon. She wants to see you perform, she said."

"Are you sure you were talking to Sarah?" Tim asked, with a smile. "She feels about as happy about my choice of employment as you. That's partly why she moved to Carlsbad."

"Only partly...and you know she loves you...as I do."

Tim shrugged off the expression even though he appreciated it. It wasn't enough to have two people care about whether he lived or died (three, if you counted the librarian). He had decided that he would make a change. They would be _forced_ to change. As he gathered his costume and prepared to go, he was surprised to be pulled into a tight hug.

"Timothy, we want what is best for you...and you don't seem to care about it at all."

Tim pulled away. "I _do_ care, Ducky. I just want what's best for everyone...not for me. For _everyone_." He grabbed his bag. "If Sarah comes by, I'm doing two full sets tonight and I won't get back until late. She can let herself in or stay with you."

"I will let her know, Timothy."

"Thanks, Ducky."

"Break a leg, lad."

"I'll do my best."

Tim walked out and looked up as he always did...and felt, as he always did, that he was missing something extremely vital by looking up and seeing only a mottled darkness rather than a star-studded night sky. He sighed and continued on his way.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Mammoth's own... Elf Lord!!!"

Tim took a deep breath and jumped onto the stage. Packed house tonight. Good. Tim knew why they liked him here. It was an edgy club. Daringly called The Surface, they had chosen Tim because he sang songs from the old time before the Descent. Songs people hadn't heard before, songs that had them asking where in the world he had found them. As he waited for the music to start, Tim smiled secretly to himself. If only people read more...if only they went to the library and looked at the old, old recordings. They would know the names of Frank Sinatra, Miles Davis. They'd know groups like U2, Third Eye Blind...weird bands like Bare Naked Ladies or They Might Be Giants. The songs from this long gone time touched his soul in a way none of the new music ever could.

"The new ones tonight, Lord?"

Tim nodded silently to the conductor. He'd been practicing it for a while. If this didn't get a reaction, he didn't know _what_ would. The entire set had a special theme.

"Good evening. This was a hit on the surface a long time ago," Tim said and then nodded for the music to start. He didn't do much prancing around, mostly he stood and sang...and let the music speak for itself. ...and it did.

"_Picture yourself in a boat on a river,  
__With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.  
__Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,  
__A girl with kaleidoscope eyes._

_Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,  
__Towering over your head.  
__Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,  
__And she's gone._

_Lucy in the sky with diamonds,  
__Lucy in the sky with diamonds,  
__Lucy in the sky with diamonds,  
__Ah... Ah..."_

Tim saw that he'd taken them by the surprise. This was weird, even for him. It made them wonder. They had flowers of course. They had trees. They didn't have the sun...and what did he mean by the sky? As he continued to sing, he watched them start to enjoy it. He'd had to transpose it to a lower key, but that didn't matter. None of them had ever heard of The Beatles.

"_Lucy in the sky with diamonds,  
__Lucy in the sky with diamonds,  
__Lucy in the sky with diamonds,  
__Ah... Ah..."_

There was a brief period of silence before a big burst of applause. Then, Tim looked back and gave the conductor a significant glance. Even _he_ looked a bit worried about this next song. Tim only smiled. It had been a challenge because it had been sung by an a capella group. That meant the conductor had had to write all the music for it. He'd enjoyed it, but performing this song was, while not exactly _illegal_, definitely pushing the limits.

"This next song has a special place in my heart," Tim said. It wasn't a lie. He hadn't been able to get the words out of his head from the first time he'd heard it in the library.

"_Calling all dreamers and optimistic fools  
__Don't let go of your dreams; make it now, make it all come true  
__If you believe in a brighter day  
__I know we can find our way..."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We've got a body, Boss."

Gibbs sighed. Every time a murder happened, he told himself that he was too old to be doing this anymore and that he needed to get out of it. ...but every time, he found another reason to stay.

"Where at?"

"Here in Mammoth," Tony said, still in the eager-to-please stage. "Abby's already on her way out."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just...just did, Boss."

"Grab your gear. Let's move!" Gibbs surged out of his seat and toward the door, not bothering to see if anyone was behind him. They would be.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim saw the uncomfortable shifting in the seats and he continued to sing. The first song could have been passed off as some sort of drug-induced fantasy...which it probably was based on what he'd read about The Beatles. This song, however...it was the real thing. No hiding from it...

"_We don't know what's in store today  
__We could spread our wings and maybe soar away  
__Or we could go like the dinosaurs they say  
__The choice is ours to make_

_All this seems like yesterday  
__We could wake up one day and make history  
__Or stick around to unravel the mystery  
__Of how we came to be..."_

He loved this song. It was _his_ song. It expressed the life he wanted to have, the life he wanted _everyone_ to have.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was kneeling beside a body, picking up one of the cave crawlers and inserting the still-struggling body into her analyzer. She looked up with a smile.

"Abby, you look like..." Gibbs began dourly.

"Like a beautiful bright sunflower?" Abby finished for him. Probably out of a need to be totally different from her surroundings and from her colleagues, Abby wore bright, garish outfits that only fit into the dress code because she was so very good at what she did.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "How many times have I told you that you are to _wait_ for me to get here first?"

"At least 387 times, Gibbs, but I don't know why you bother repeating yourself so often." She grinned. "This was not a nice way to die, Gibbs."

"Yeah, kinda figured that, Abbs."

"She wasn't killed here, though," Tony said...and then cleared his throat nervously at the faces turned toward him. "No blood. There should be lots of blood based on the wounds...and the crawlers wouldn't be in a place like this. Too clean. It actually reminds me of..."

"No, DiNozzo. I will _not_ listen to you recite yet another line from a movie," Abby said, pretending to plug her ears. "You're a smart guy. Don't you have anything original to say?"

"How about...This was probably sending a message to someone."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They started getting into it and Tim saw his boss begin to relax a little. He liked the edginess of what Tim did, but it always made him nervous the first time one of these songs was played. Get the wrong official passing by and he could get into trouble.

"_Well I know we can touch the stars one day  
__Kick up the dust on Mars one day  
__Or trip the light of the Milky Way  
__But we've got to find our way..."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs looked at the poor girl's body. Spread-eagled in front of a door in a nondescript but clean apartment building. No attempt to hide her. They were definitely making a point...whoever they were.

"You're right. Who lives in this apartment?"

"I'll find out."

"You do that."

"You ready for me to do my magic?" Abby asked.

Gibbs finally smiled. "Yeah, do it."

Taking a small blood and tissue sample, Abby shoved them into her analyzer. It was still doing its thing on the crawler, but this was a multitasker of the first order. The entire operating budget for a year had been spent buying it...and it had taken Abby almost that long to figure out how it worked.

"Well?"

"You can't rush art, Gibbs."

"Yes, I can."

"Then, get out her wallet. Major Mini isn't ready just..." It beeped. "Oh, it's ready!"

"Who is she?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"What is this, sir?"

"That is your next mission."

The woman looked up. She was young, rather petite at first glance...but had an air of complete confidence...and danger.

"You wish me to read a book?"

"No. I wish you to find the author, Officer David."

She straightened imperceptibly. That was a subtle reminder that she worked for the NIU-M...and even if it was her father she was working under, she still had to show him respect as her superior. The National Investigation Unit might be one global over-arching entity, but it still showed the roots of the organizations from which it sprung. NIU-Mossad still acted in a manner similar to the time before the Descent.

"Is this all you have, sir?"

"I can give you copies of all his work, but the most we know is that he is from the Subterranean States."

"Thom the Gem. Not his real name?"

"Of course not. He has been writing for a few years now and has never been found, not by NIU-S, not by NIU-E. No one knows who he is."

"And you wish _me_ to find him...in SS territory? We do not have authorization to operate there."

"Then, you had better not get caught."

Ziva sighed. "And when I find him?"

"He is trying to begin a revolution. What do you _think_?"

"Yes, Father."

"Do not disappoint me, Ziva."

"No, Father."

"Dismissed!"

She stood, nodded and walked out...unhappy with her assignment. Still...she looked at the book in her hands. At least she'd have something to read on the trip across the Atlantic. It took a few days to cross the ocean.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_...To this island in a starry ocean  
__She's poetry in motion, this island earth!  
__Spinnin' like a dancer; gravity is the answer  
__Rendezvous in the blue, this island Earth!  
__Whoa, this island Earth  
__Got to find our way  
__Whoa, this island Earth  
__Oh, this island...Earth!"_

The applause was long and loud and Tim bowed. This was the end of his second set and yet, there were calls for an encore. Even though it was past one in the morning, Tim was ready to oblige when he looked up and saw two men standing at the back, talking with his boss who suddenly looked right at him and gestured.

"I'm sorry, folks, no more time tonight! I'll be performing at The Surface again in a few days!"

There were chants of "Elf Lord! Elf Lord!" going on but Tim was distracted enough that he only smiled and jumped off the stage. He hoped that his boss would remember that he really couldn't go out into the crowd. He waited backstage for a while and finally, after a few minutes, they came.

"Why didn't you come out front...Elf Lord?" the older man asked.

Tim flushed. He'd never been especially enamored of his stage name, but he'd never felt so humiliated to have it spoken before. Still, he could tell that this was some sort of law enforcement type...probably heard the music. As much as a part of him wanted to, he really didn't want to cause trouble for his boss. Not yet, anyway. Getting arrested would only halt his work.

"Mr. McGee doesn't like to get caught in the press after a show. You can see that he's popular and so he usually stays back until the club empties out a bit more."

"Popular? You weren't singing _that_ good," the younger man said with a snide look.

"You could do better?" Tim retorted. "You probably never sang a day in your life, let alone had it be your livelihood."

"You're Tim McGee?" the other man interrupted.

"Yes. Obviously," Tim said.

An eyebrow lifted.

"I'm Agent Gibbs. This is Agent DiNozzo." He held out a badge. "We're from..."

"The National Investigation Unit. Why?" Now, he was worried. These guys had power. A lot of it. If they knew who he really was...if they knew what he'd been doing...

"You have a sister named Sarah McGee?"

"Yes. Why?" Now, he was afraid...but not for himself.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, Mr. McGee."

Tim wasn't stupid. Bad news meant one thing when it came from the NIU. He didn't know when it happened, but suddenly, he was sagging toward the floor, hands on his arms, holding him, keeping him from falling into the props. He quickly regained his feet.

"Sarah's dead, isn't she."

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Mr. McGee."

"Where is she?"

"She's at NIU Headquarters."

"Why?"

"Because she was murdered."

Tim reeled. "But she was in Carlsbad! She was there...she'd said that she was coming back to visit but...she told Ducky...but...she wasn't supposed to be _here_!"

"I know this is hard for you, Mr. McGee," Agent DiNozzo began, but Tim couldn't tolerate empty words, not at this moment.

"No, you do _not_ know that this is hard for me. You don't know a single...thing about me, Agent DiNozzo. Do _not_ pretend that you have the slightest idea how I feel right at this moment because you _don't_. Got it?" Anger helped him focus. "I want to see my sister."

Gibbs looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not he could tolerate it. Then, he nodded.

"All right. We'll take you over. We have some questions as well. Is there anyone you'd like to call?"

Tim took a long deep breath. He'd let out too much, expressed too much. These were the kind of people who would take any clue and use it against him. They were the kind of people who held him down. He wouldn't let them see anything more than they'd already seen. He let out the fear, the anger...it all escaped through that one long exhale.

"I need to change out of my costume. Then, I'll come with you. I'd like to call Ducky, but we can do that on the way." Without another word, he went back to the changing room and put on his street clothes. While he was in there, he took a moment to close his eyes and mourn. He didn't let himself cry. He'd do that later, without the NIU looking on, but Sarah was dead and...and someone had killed her. One more deep breath and he walked back out.

"You ready, Mr. McGee?"

Tim nodded and then looked at his boss. "You still want me to do a set on Saturday?"

"Oh...Tim, we don't need to talk about that right now. Call me later...when you feel up to it."

"Okay." Tim followed Gibbs and Tony out the door wondering how his life could possibly get any worse than it was at this moment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"That the brother?" Abby asked as Tim walked by with Gibbs.

"Yeah. He's weird," Tony said.

"He looks like he needs a hug."

"Yeah, good luck giving him one. He's the most standoffish person I've ever met."

"You're not exactly the comforting type, Tony," Abby said with a smile...which faded as she watched him head to the morgue. "Oh, I can't just sit here and wait. I have to go down there."

"Why? If we need to do deeper tests than the ones you can do, we'll send it to Sub York for autopsy."

"Because of her brother. He needs someone there to help him."

Tony threw up his hands...and followed after her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Let me warn you, Mr. McGee," Gibbs said, "she wasn't found in the best of condition."

"I doubt there could be anything much worse than what is in my head right now, Agent Gibbs," Tim said.

Gibbs watched Tim carefully. The way he'd instantly pulled himself together and pulled away from them spoke to some sort of negative view of the police. Granted...lots of people felt that way, but he could tell when he wasn't trusted. Tim McGee didn't trust him...not any of them. It was a feeling that was instant and visceral.

"Do you want to wait until your friend...Ducky gets here?" He was curious as to what kind of person would go by that moniker. He wasn't even sure if he should be expecting a male or a female.

"No. Let me see my sister, please."

Unable to put it off, Gibbs nodded and waved his hand in front of the scanner. The door opened onto a stainless steel room. One table had a body under a sheet. Tim walked over to it before Gibbs could do anything...and he didn't just pull it back gently to see her face, not that it would have helped him any...but he whipped the entire sheet off, exposing himself to the full horror of what had been done to his sister.

The sheet fluttered to the floor as Tim stood motionless and stared at her ravaged body. Death had been due to strangulation, but the garrotte used had sliced deeply into her neck. The worst though were the obvious places where the crawlers had been doing their work...and had been at it for at least a day. Tim stared and stared. It was unnerving. He said only one word.

"Crawlers?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

A slow nod and then Tim turned, walked past Gibbs and out of the morgue. He didn't even replace the sheet...and he didn't look back. He wasn't running, but he didn't stop, not even when he nearly collided with Tony and Abby who had come down behind them. It would take a whole lot more than mere human flesh to hold him back.

"Mr. McGee?" Tony asked.

No response. Tim just kept right on walking.

"Boss?" Tony asked, changing his focus.

"Let him go."

"You sure? I thought you..."

"If you want to try and stop him, DiNozzo, I'll be sure to mark down on your death certificate that the cause of death was suicide."

Abby looked over at the sheet on the floor.

"Gosh, Gibbs, what did you do? Act like a magician?"

"He did that, Abbs. Not me."

"I told you. He's weird," Tony said.

"Let's see if we can keep track of where he went."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky approached the tall building with a feeling of slight unease. It mingled with the grief he was holding back at the news that Sarah had been killed. It was bad enough that she had died...but _murdered_? Horrible. Then, there was the fact that the NIU was investigating. They weren't corrupt...so far as he knew, but Ducky firmly felt that they had too much power...and that power could very easily corrupt them in time.

"Hello, I'm here to see an Agent...Gibbs, I believe?"

The security guard barely looked up from his screen.

"You're...Ducky, I presume?" came a voice from behind.

Ducky turned around and looked at the man who was eyeing him with more that a little amusement.

"Yes...Dr. Mallard. I was told that Timothy was being brought here. Where is he?"

"We were just looking for him. He left after seeing his sister."

"Oh? I was given to understand that he would be staying here, that you had questions."

"We do...but he left. We haven't been able to find him in the building."

"No...if he said he would answer questions, he will still be here. I thought that you could track anyone using your central computer."

Gibbs shrugged irritably. "I hate computers."

"Ah. Well, I can tell you where he will be even without your gift for keeping tabs on citizens."

"I wasn't aware you'd been here before...Dr. Mallard."

"You may call me Ducky if you'd like, and I have not been here before. ...but I know Timothy as you do not. He will be in this building. Can one get to the roof of this monstrosity?"

"Yeah, you can, but why–?" Tony began.

"Timothy will be there. If you'll allow me to go with you, I know how to deal with him as you do not."

Gibbs nodded and led the way to the elevator.

"Uncle?" he asked as the elevator began to ascend.

"No," Ducky said shortly.

"Grandfather?"

Ducky laughed in spite of himself. "No."

"Then, how do you know him?" Abby asked. She had come along for the ride. She usually did.

"I knew his parents. We were good friends."

"Knew?" Tony asked. "They're dead?"

"Yes. Many years ago."

"You don't seem to talk much, Ducky."

"On the contrary, I'm positively garrulous, Agent Gibbs."

"Really."

The elevator doors slid smoothly open and Ducky got out.

"Straight through there, Dr. Mallard."

"Thank you." Ducky walked toward a door that looked extremely old-fashioned for such a streamlined building. It actually had a knob. He turned it and stepped out onto the roof. There, as he had expected, was Tim, curled up against one of the air purifiers, arms around his knees. He wasn't crying or rocking. In fact, he was motionless and his face held no emotion at all.

Ducky hurried over and put his arms around Tim.

"The crawlers got her, Ducky. The crawlers got her."

"Oh, no. Timothy. I'm so very sorry."

"Get me out of here, Ducky. Please. Get me out. I can't get out."

Tony looked at Gibbs when he heard those words but said nothing.

"You wish to go home?"

"No! No! I want to get out! Get me out of here!" Tim screamed and pulled away from Ducky, running toward the edge of the building. Tony saw what was going to happen and reacted even before Gibbs. With a flying leap, he got his arms around Tim's waist and pulled him to the ground before he could reach the edge. They both landed hard.

"Timothy!" Ducky shouted and grabbed for him as well. "Timothy, stop. Stop, calm down. It's all right." He pulled him away from Tony who had been restraining him. "I have you, Timothy. I have you. It's all right. It's all right."

"Please, Ducky...please, get me out of here."

Holding him tightly and rocking the man back and forth, Ducky kept speaking in a reassuring tone until Tim stopped struggling. Finally, he stiffened and Ducky took that as the signal to stop and relaxed his grip.

"I'm all right now, Ducky," Tim said.

"Are you sure, lad?"

Tim nodded and stood, turning to Gibbs, almost daring him to make a comment about what had just happened. There was only silence.

"You said you had questions for me, Agent Gibbs?" Tim asked.

"Yes. Tony, take Mr. McGee down to one of our conference rooms."

"What? No interrogation?" Tim asked, managing to salvage a bit of his former bravado.

"Only if you killed your sister, Mr. McGee."

Tim turned and followed Tony. As soon as he was gone, Gibbs looked at Ducky who hadn't really moved except to stand once more.

"I believe you wish to speak to me _before_ speaking with Timothy?"

"How could you tell?"

"I have lived longer than you have, Agent Gibbs...and I'm much more experienced. Ask away."

"Dr. Mallard..."

"Wait," Abby interrupted suddenly. "Dr. Mallard, Dr. _Donald_ Mallard?"

"Yes, the very same."

Gibbs looked blankly at Abby.

"Gibbs, Dr. Mallard practically _wrote_ everything I know about forensics...my whole library...as far as the human body is concerned anyway."

Ducky smiled. "You must have an extensive library...Abigail, was it?"

"Just Abby."

"Ah. Another name which, I'm sure, does not accurately encapsulate the bearer of it. Yes, I have written many tomes on the human body and the lost art of autopsy."

Abby laughed. "Wow, I'm so honored to meet you! The last I heard, you were living in Sub Salt...before it flooded of course."

Ducky sighed. "Yes, I was one of the lucky ones who was away when the tragedy occurred."

"I remember it. Only like two people survived."

"No, my dear," Ducky said, glad that Tim wasn't there to hear this conversation, "it was not _like_ two people. It was _exactly_ two people who survived...a sixteen-year-old boy and his eight-year-old sister."

Abby's eyes widened as she put two and two together.

"Abby, why don't you head down?"

"Okay, Gibbs." In a sort of stunned silence, Abby slipped away.

There was a further pause before Gibbs continued.

"So, you're famous, Dr. Mallard."

"No longer...and you may still call me Ducky. I haven't published in years...but my accolades are not why you asked me to stay up here, are they."

"No. What just happened?"

"I'm afraid you were witness to Timothy's lingering difficulties."

"Meaning?"

Ducky caught the tone. "Oh, he is _not_ suicidal."

"Really? That didn't look like the action of someone who loves life."

"You were seeing the actions of someone blinded by grief who forgot where he was. Timothy was not attempting to end his life but to preserve it by escaping."

"Explain."

"What do you remember about the Sub Salt tragedy, Agent Gibbs?"

"The dam broke, filled the entire cavern in the night. Only those who were away...and Tim and Sarah McGee survived."

"Yes." This was not something Ducky greatly relished, relating past traumas about someone he counted as family to a group who could arrest him without cause. ...particularly if he was found to be claustrophobic. Those who had that unfortunate affliction were taken away to be "treated"...and were rarely, if ever, seen again. "Yes, they survived. Somehow, they managed to get to the top of the cavern and took refuge on a crag. The water came all the way up. There was nowhere for the water to go until it reached the tram level."

"I remember. That's why they've dug emergency drainage tunnels around all the cities."

"Yes. Closing the barn door after the cows are out, I'm afraid. It was a waste of funds, but no matter. Over and done with as far as that goes. Timothy and Sarah were trapped on their outcropping for nearly four days before they were rescued. In that time, Timothy had to hold on to his sister to keep her from falling off. He says that he didn't dare sleep because if he slipped, Sarah might die. After a couple of days, the water started to go down, but that meant that some of the bodies came to rest near him...and they couldn't get down until rescue crews arrived. That is what you saw here. Timothy was getting to the highest ground he could and then, he felt he needed to get higher still and he was running for that reason only. Do not mistake grief for a death wish."

"Did he get help dealing with all...that?"

"We tried. I tried. I even sent him to a colleague who is an expert in childhood trauma...but he would not open up to anyone. He's been that way ever since. He wasn't ever exactly outgoing. He was tested at genius levels and was treated as such by the educational system. He was isolated and mostly friendless throughout his childhood. Friends, playing...these are things that get in the way of developing genius...in the eyes of our leaders. All he had was his family...and an older man he counted as an uncle. What he had after the Flood was the loss of nearly his entire family, three brothers and a sister, as well as his parents. ...and facing the reality of what had to be done with those corpses."

"No exceptions?"

"No. Impossible. Everyone from the governor down to the rank and file were laid out in one of the dark corners...for the crawlers to dispose of."

"Did he see them?"

"I would normally automatically say no. Those areas are blocked off, for good reason, but in the past few weeks, I have begun to wonder."

"He seemed very upset about the fact that his sister's body had been attacked by the crawlers."

Ducky blanched. "They weren't the cause of death, were they?"

"No. Strangulation."

Ducky sighed with relief. "Good. I would not wish that death on anyone, even if I loathed their existence. ...but that is the story of what happened on this roof, Agent Gibbs. Timothy is a very private man. He keeps to himself and makes very little impression on anyone."

"Even as the Elf Lord?"

Ducky chuckled. "Yes, well, that is a persona. If you want to see him as he really is, go to the library where he works...and observe him without being observed...although that would be difficult. Timothy knows when he is being watched. It seems like a second nature to him."

Unexpectedly, Ducky turned away from Gibbs and looked out over the city of Mammoth. Sometimes, it really amazed him that their distant ancestors had been able to build these immense caverns. One could no longer go to the original Mammoth caves, the ones that led to the surface, and see the original settlements, but these caverns were monstrous...and much deeper than the natural cave system reached. No, the buildings didn't soar as they had on the surface (from what he could tell), but they were tall and well-built. It was a secure life they lived...and he understood why Tim hated it so much.

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, I was just thinking that there is definitely merit to..." He stopped, appalled that he had almost revealed Tim's dislike of their living space. That most certainly _would_ be disastrous to speak of aloud. "Will I be permitted to wait until you are finished questioning Timothy?"

"Of course. There's a waiting area. I'll show you there."

They rode down in the elevator together and Gibbs led the way to a small but comfortable waiting room.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. This will suffice."

"You're welcome. And you were right."

"About what?"

"You actually are rather talkative."

Ducky smiled. "I don't lie, Agent Gibbs."

"No, you just don't tell the whole truth."

"Who can tell it all? Certainly not me...and I would dare say that no one can. Truth is so difficult to tell accurately."

Gibbs smiled in response. Ducky might be old and he might seem a bit dotty, but his mind was sharp and Gibbs could tell that he was not a man to be trifled with...or manipulated. Whoever tried it would more than likely come out the worse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"_Boarding call for Float 354 destined for Gibraltar. All rows, all zones, please come to the gate for boarding."_

Ziva sighed and shoved the book back into her bag. It was a rare enough thing, being seen carrying a book, but this book in particular could get her in trouble, NIU or not. She had been sure to flash her badge at the check-in just to make sure that she wasn't searched. Now, she flashed it again at the gate staff and was waved on without having to show ID. She was shown to a private section of the float, and thankfully, no other NIU officers or agents were present. She listened to the instructions about leaks, crashes, and other disasters that would be fatal no matter what precautions were taken and then sat back and began reading again. It was a small book, cleverly entitled _The Sky's the Limit_, but its author had obviously chosen his (or her) words very carefully.

_Have you ever wondered where expressions we use every day come from? Think about these for a moment. Really think about them:_

_In broad daylight  
__Many moons ago  
__Not the only pebble on the beach  
__Have your moment in the sun  
__Scare the daylights out of someone  
__The sky is the limit  
__Cold light of day  
__On cloud nine  
__Come rain or come shine  
__Every cloud has a silver lining  
__Calm before the storm  
__White as snow_

_What are we to do with these phrases when the actual meanings of them cannot be...not in this world? ...and yet, why do they persist within our common language? When was the last time you saw the light of day? When was the last time you saw a cloud or the moon or the sun? Or snow? ...and yet, we still use these phrases. We still have a connection with the surface that is much deeper...even than we are buried in these tombs we call cities. _

_We have all been buried alive...most of us just don't realize it._

In spite of herself, Ziva shivered at that last sentence. Yes, he had a gift for writing, this Thom. She wondered just how wide his readership was. Certainly, there had been more and more surface cells springing up around the world in the last few years. Most of them were run by fanatics, claustrophobes who couldn't tolerate the walls around them. This man was not one of them. He was too well-educated, too...aware. He had a definite purpose in mind. It was to force the public to see what he saw...and it was an ingenious plan. Not all the groups were run by lunatics. The ones which were not were the ones who thrived. If enough people were thinking this way, the government would be forced to act. There had been enough disasters which had wiped out entire cities that it was hard to proclaim the Descent as the best move mankind had ever made.

This was a dangerous man... No wonder she'd been ordered to kill him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. McGee."

Gibbs was impressed with how quickly Tim had managed to graft an unconcerned look on his face.

"Can we dispense with the pleasantries, Agent Gibbs? I'm guessing you'll need to know where I was when she...was killed."

"On the stage?"

"Dozens of people can verify that I didn't leave the stage from nine until past midnight."

"Well, she wasn't killed tonight. We discovered her body tonight, Mr. McGee."

"What do you mean?"

"She'd been dead at least a day before we found her."

"A day?" There was a brief shudder. No doubt, he was imagining the crawlers.

"Yes. At least. Possibly more."

"Where was she?"

"At your apartment."

"How did someone get inside my apartment?" Tim asked, genuinely confused. "That building has good security. _I_ have good security. I've been there every night. Usually pretty late but..."

"She wasn't _in_ your apartment."

"You said..."

"I said she was _at_ your apartment. Her body was left outside your door, but she was definitely killed elsewhere."

Tim swallowed. Gibbs noticed the bobbing Adam's apple. Tim was worried, probably grieving...but that had also made him afraid. It was visible in his stance, his eyes. Ducky might be better than Gibbs was at reading people, but Gibbs wasn't too shabby himself. There was an added tension to Tim's body now.

"We think it was sending a message to you."

"To me?"

"Yes. Can you think of any reason why?"

"No. I'm a librarian," Tim said, but Gibbs caught the momentary gleam of tears. "I work at the old book library on the Avenue."

"And you sing in a semi-legal club."

"Along with a few others, yes. I take gigs where I can get them and...well, Angelo can't afford to hire me on full time. You guys hit him pretty hard with taxes."

"We're not the IRS."

"You're the government," Tim shot back immediately. "Aren't you?"

"A part, yes. But I do not have anything to do with Angelo's taxes. ...it's a risk he runs by allowing the music he does."

"Yes, because music is so dangerous, isn't it."

"Do you think that could be why your sister was killed?"

"Because of my music?" Tim's surprise was real. It was subtly expressed but real. ...so that hadn't been what _he_ was thinking of.

"That seems unlikely to you?"

"Yes. The only people I know who would resent my music are people like you. ...so unless you think the government killed my sister to send a message to me, I doubt it was my music that was the reason for it." He saw that as a real possibility, Gibbs noticed...but not the truth.

"Why do you sing the music you do?"

"Because it's good music. It sells."

"No underlying message?"

"Like what?" That was a lie...a good lie, but a lie. Tim knew exactly what message his music was putting out. That's why he chose it.

"Where do you get it?"

"Here and there. None of it is original, if that's what you're wondering. I have no talent in that area. I just sing the songs...and I can produce the original composers if that's a problem."

"No political rants?"

"No. The Surface isn't about ranting. It's about music. Let people take from what I sing what they want to. You can ask anyone there. I don't make political statements. I'm an entertainer, not a politician." The last word was almost sneered.

"How long have you worked at the library?"

"Ever since I finished at MIT. It's the only job I've had. That would be about ten years now."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes. From what I can tell, you're a pretty smart guy. The government, I know, probably would love to have you working for them. They probably expected it of you based on the effort they put into educating you."

There was brief expression, but this time, Gibbs couldn't define it. It wasn't anger or hatred. It was something else. He went on.

"If not the government, there's a lot of research going on right now...from what I understand. There are plenty of positions. Why a library?"

"I like it there."

"And the singing?"

"I like that, too."

Nowhere to go. Tim didn't want probing into his life. Fine. For now, they could focus on the case at hand.

"What about your sister?"

"What about her?"

"Tell me about her."

"She was attending Carlsbad U. She transferred there from Georgetown Mammoth two years ago."

"Did you get along?"

For the first time, Tim smiled...a smile without sarcasm or the cynicism that Gibbs was beginning to think of as some sort of a shield. His smile, sad as it was, changed his entire countenance and he seemed years younger. He was one of those baby-faced people who always looked younger than he really was. It was his expression that hid it. He seemed...like a real person, not a caricature.

"We're siblings...of course we didn't. We fought all the time. After our family died, we moved in with Ducky...until I went to MIT. Sarah came with me. I raised her myself. Ducky helped and his place was home...but I raised her. We were family, all that was left of it, but that didn't mean that we didn't squabble constantly. She was such a slob." He actually laughed. "But I love her. Loved her. She's my sister and that's all that matters. She wanted to be an English professor, English lit...like Dad. She didn't agree with what I was doing with my life, thought I was wasting my gifts. She and Ducky, both. She said that she wasn't going to sit around watching me screw up everything that I'd been given, everything Mom and Dad had wanted for me. ...but she was coming here...Ducky said to see me perform. He might have been lying, trying to patch things up...not that he really needed to. We would have worked it out eventually. That's what families do."

Gibbs said nothing during Tim's ruminations. It was actually almost nice just to see this man, who was younger than DiNozzo, looking more like someone his age _should_ look. Then, he watched in silent amazement as Tim suddenly remembered where he was...and to whom he was speaking. The cynic returned full force, although he couldn't quite get the biting tone back into his words.

_He really is protecting himself,_ Gibbs realized.

"What else do you want to know, Agent Gibbs? I hadn't spoken to her in weeks. Ducky was the one who told me she was coming to visit."

"That's all for now. Don't leave town. We'll need to keep her for a couple more days."

"I'll get to bury her, though...right?" That was very important to him.

"Yes." Gibbs didn't bother pointing out that, even when they were buried, the bugs got to them eventually. Tim knew that. It was the symbol of the rite that mattered. "We'll release her body to you for burial when we're done. There might be an autopsy."

"Whatever it takes to find them."

"We'll also need access to your apartment."

"Okay."

"You don't mind?"

Tim shrugged. "No. Why would I? The door code is 647. I'm going to be staying with Ducky for a while."

Whatever he was hiding, it wasn't in his apartment, then. "You can go, Mr. McGee."

Tim stood and walked out, Tony and Abby entering in his wake.

"He's a weirdo, Boss," Tony said. "Reminds me of that remake of..._Night of the Living Dead_."

_Thwack!_

"Not now, DiNozzo. Please."

"He didn't do it, Gibbs," Abby said. "He's no murderer...especially not of his sister."

"I know."

"Okay, I know why you both are saying that, but does any _hard_ evidence say that he didn't? You know the guys upstairs are going to ask," Tony said.

"His alibi ought to be easy enough to verify once we get the exact time of death...but mostly, it's because of how he reacted."

"Exactly," Gibbs agreed. "He thought she was _inside_ his apartment. He assumed she'd been killed just tonight. ...and there's something he's hiding. I think you're right, Tony, and Sarah McGee was killed to send a message to her brother. ...and I think he knows what the message is and why he got it...but he's not going to tell _us_."

"Why not?"

"Oh, come on, Abbs. You know how people feel about the NIU."

"Yeah, but..."

"...but he's going to feel it ten-fold. For whatever reason, he trusts us about as far as DiNozzo could throw him."

"Hey!"

"So we're not going to get the reason out of him, even if it could solve the murder. I'll bet he tries to do it himself...which means that he's in danger. We'll need to keep an eye on him."

"He seems a bit claustro, if you ask me," Tony said. "That could get him in a _lot_ of trouble."

"You will _not _bring that up unless we have sure evidence of it, Tony. You know what will happen if that goes in our report."

Tony nodded. Everyone knew. It was not a charge to be made lightly because the government heads took it very seriously.

"I don't think he is, anyway," Abby said. "He's been through a lot and he reacted without thinking."

Tony shrugged and didn't say any more, but Gibbs knew what he was thinking. Tony's own mother had been a full-fledged claustrophobic. It got so bad that she had ended up trying to climb the walls of Sub York and hadn't been seen since the doctors had taken her away for treatment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was nearly three in the morning when they got back to Ducky's house.

"I'll make up your room, Timothy."

"No need, Ducky. I can do it." Tim walked up the stairs.

"Timothy."

Tim continued to walk, forcing Ducky to follow. Jimmy peeked out of his bedroom but at a glance from Ducky pulled his head back in. Once Tim got into the room that was usually his when he visited, he set down his bag...and stood still.

Ducky gently directed him to the bed and forced him to sit down. Then, he sat down beside him and waited.

"My little sister is dead, Ducky. They killed Sarah. Sarah is dead. Sarah is dead."

Then, finally, the tears came and Tim began to weep. Ducky held him until the tears passed.

It was a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ziva slept from the time she boarded the trans-Atlantic float to midway through the trip. She was alone in the NIU section again and had requested only a dinner visit. They all knew better than to disobey those "requests". She ate the dinner provided by the timid attendant and said nothing beyond a brief thank you. Then, once ensured of her privacy, she pulled out the little book that was supposed to lead her to her next target and began to read once more.

_There are some, perhaps many of you who will get this book and try to write me off as some sort of loony. "He's one of those nutbars who throw themselves against solid walls. He thinks that everything before the Descent was beautiful and perfect. He thinks that returning to the surface will mean an end to all the difficulties human beings face in trying to survive."_

_You are wrong._

_I have no thoughts of a panacea to the ills of society. I have no delusion that people would suddenly cease to be people if we returned to the surface and found it viable. We are a species that has within it great potential for stupidity...and for transcendent moments of brilliance. And yet, that brilliance is every day squashed by our leaders. We are tested, proclaimed to be smart and then we have our intelligence "focused" or "guided" into appropriate expressions of our intelligence...expressions that are designed to destroy us eventually...once we are no longer useful._

_I don't imagine that there will be anything other than a continuation of mankind on the surface. ...and yet isn't that enough?_

_We are not thriving here. Check the statistics if you want to. I have. They are available if you know where and how to look for them. Life expectancy has not increased in decades. Rates of depression and suicide are growing. Birth rates are falling. The rising diagnoses of so-called "claustrophobia" have given the government the excuse they need to remove people from the population, people who could turn into threats to their dominance. Rather than treat what is, when genuine, a psychological disorder, they are removed...excised...pruned. I will not tell you what the fate of those unfortunate people is. You can hardly imagine._

_What if the surface remains unviable as has been suggested (or forced upon us) by our glorious leaders? If so, then I am wrong. Science is wrong. The evidence is wrong. ...and we are doomed to a slow and steady decline into extinction...and I pity the last human being who has to look at the ruin of the human race and know that it is over. I suppose the only good part of that is the fact that we will already be buried in the earth with no one left to mourn us, not even the animals we brought with us. For with our final end, they will be free to find the surface once more. ...and thrive as we cannot._

The strongest part of these words, this book, Ziva realized, was Thom's _lack_ of a call to action. He wasn't asking people to rise up. He was asking them to _think_...a much harder task to accomplish, but one that was much more effective in the long run if he succeeded. People who have thought and are convinced will not change their minds where people who are incited to revolt don't usually really know _why_ they are revolting. Insofar as there could be a right way to rebel, this Thom was doing it right.

Tantalizing glimpses into the body of knowledge Thom claimed to have. Was he lying to make a point or did he really have access to information? If he did... Ziva shook her head at the possibility now staring her in the face. So few people could get to the kind of information he claimed to have. Could he be in NIU? If so...how to approach a situation like that? She closed the book and leaned back in her seat. Taking out a no one didn't matter so much. ...but the NIU. Even if he was corrupt as the livelong day, killing one of the leaders sent a bad message to the public.

She'd reach the port tomorrow. No sense in borrowing trouble. There was enough of it to go around already.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim awoke with a jolt, wondering why he wasn't in his apartment...before he remembered and the grief of losing the last member of his family hit him anew. ...and the significance of it as well. He couldn't tell anyone about this. Tell the NIU and his life might as well be over. Tell Ducky and he could get into more trouble than Tim would wish on his worst enemy. He had to do it alone. It was dark outside, still. That meant that the daytime lights hadn't signaled the arrival of sun on the surface. Not yet. He hadn't slept very long, then...but he was so awake. He didn't remember getting into bed. He must have fallen asleep while Ducky was comforting him. How he wished he wasn't so deadened inside and could show the same kind of affection Ducky gave so freely to him. Something held him back...and had done ever since those long nights on that ledge...even before then, ever since his education had begun. ...and they had been almost exclusively nights. Most of the lighting for Sub Salt had been destroyed. One flickering band had brightened and dimmed with the rotation of the earth, never quite enough to dispel the gloom but not enough to hide the bodies that had begun bumping against his legs.

"_Keep your eyes closed, Sarah."_

"_I'm scared, Tim."_

"_Just keep your eyes closed. I won't let you go. Never. You'll be safe."_

"_I don't want to fall."_

"_You won't fall. I won't let you fall."_

Tim wished he could be so deadened when it came to Sarah...but he couldn't. He had clung desperately to the only family he had left and now...now, the last vestige of his life was gone, pared away by someone who seemed to know who he really was. Someone who had not been chary of committing murder just to make a point. Killing an innocent to send a threat to the guilty.

The tears that had been on the verge of falling dried up and Tim began to feel the anger that directed so much of his life...and had ever since he had been forced to give up so much by the government. He couldn't trust the people in power. He had firsthand experience of what the government thought of individuals. Those NIU agents who were investigating seemed competent enough, but they wouldn't get very far if they didn't know the whole story...and they _couldn't_ know the whole story. As much as Tim loved Sarah, he couldn't compromise his work just for one person, not even for his sister. It was impossible. That's why he had to get justice for Sarah on his own.

He couldn't do what he wanted to do here. He had to go to work. Not even the librarian would be there yet. He could get some work done before the place opened for business.

Quickly, he dressed and snuck down the stairs...only to run into Ducky...who looked as though he was waiting. He just sighed.

"Timothy, this is not the way."

"It's the only way, Ducky."

"I believe these agents are truly trying to do what is best to find Sarah's killer." Ducky paused. "...but you know, don't you."

"Not who...but I know why."

"And the NIU doesn't?"

"No. They don't."

"Timothy, you are _not_ an agent. You are a librarian, an entertainer. You don't have the training for the task you are taking on."

Tim smiled. "You don't get trained for this kind of thing, Ducky. Vengeance doesn't take training. It just takes time, effort, patience..."

"A willingness to kill? Do you really have that, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"Put the man who killed my sister in front of me and you'll find out. I'm going to work."

"You need to take time to mourn, Timothy."

Tim shook his head. "Mourning won't bring her back. Mourning won't change a single thing about life as it right now...as it's always been. Mourning didn't stop people from dying, not then...not now...and it never will."

Tim turned to go but was stopped by Ducky's hand. For the moment it was firm enough that Tim was prevented from walking. He could have pulled away, but he didn't.

"Mourning will stop the self-destruction you are seeking."

"It helps you let them go."

The voice startled both men. Jimmy was standing quietly at the bottom of the steps, looking on as he often did.

"Mourning isn't about changing anything _or _anyone. It just helps you move on."

Tim opened his mouth to let out yet another dig...but he found that he was unable to do so. He wasn't sure why. What ended up coming out was altogether different.

"I've been mean to you, Jimmy. I'm sorry." Then, he looked at Ducky. "I'll see you tonight. Don't let me forget to call Angelo. I'm supposed to perform on Saturday."

Ducky didn't remove his hand but he loosened it, allowing Tim to walk out. He gave a long sigh as the door closed.

"He doesn't belong here," Jimmy said.

"What?"

"In this place...Tim doesn't belong. He needs to get out."

"That is an impossibility, I'm afraid."

Jimmy shook his head. "Nothing is impossible. _He_ knows that." Then, he turned and walked back up to his room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, I can see why he didn't care about us invading his apartment, Boss," Tony said, poking his head back out into the hallway, mere minutes after entering.

"Why?" Abby asked, barely looking away from her work...although Gibbs had been doing _his_ best to look away from her. She had decided to go with neon as her color palette. Dominating the ensemble was a neon green shirt that actually reflected green light when the hall lights hit it. Major Mini was scanning the walls in the hopes of finding an elusive fingerprint. So far, they all belonged to residents.

"Come and see for yourself," he said mysteriously.

Now curious, she and Gibbs walked in.

"Wow," Abby said. "Are you sure we have the right apartment?"

The place was completely clean...scarily so. There was nothing on the walls, no decorations, no sign that anyone lived there.

"There's food in the fridge, some in the cupboards...and clothes in the closet... but he doesn't really live here."

"What do you mean?" Abby asked.

"He sleeps here," Tony explained. "But think about it. He works at the library during the day and sings at night. When would he really have time to live here?"

"Thank you for reminding me why I hired you, DiNozzo," Gibbs said and began to investigate the Spartan living quarters.

"My pleasure, Boss."

The more they investigated, the more depressing Tim McGee's life became. There were no family holographs, no indications of a real life. There didn't seem to be _anything_ there. With that in mind, Abby began itching to try out one of the features she'd recently discovered on Major Mini...but she didn't like to have an audience...unless she was sure it would work. They should see the results, not her flubbing her way through a piece of machinery that was continually making her feel a little stupid.

Tony smiled flirtatiously at her and walked out of the bedroom to continue the investigation. ...of course, Tony flirted with pretty much _everyone_...and he was pretty good at it, too, she had to admit. ...but for now, she pulled out Major Mini and flipped it over. On the back of the handheld device was a small screen and a dial. She turned it on and began to stare intently at the screen as she walked around the room, waving it as she moved. To her surprise, the closet was now twice as big. She looked up. Solid wall, a few clothes. ...look down...a hidden room. Tim _was_ hiding something after all...and hiding it well. She could see the shape but it was shielded somehow and she couldn't see any details. She stepped into the closet. Either Tim had reckoned without the scanner or else even he didn't know about it. Immediately, she discarded the second notion. She had seen Tim's profile...and there was nothing in them indicating a lack of curiosity. He would have noticed the dimensions from outside and inside. What could be in there? She reached out a hand and touched the wall. To her surprise, it grew warm, almost hot to the touch. Instantly, she turned Major Mini back and scanned for emissions, radioactivity.

_Huh, nothing radioactive,_ she thought. _A warning system? Look; don't touch?_

"Abbs, what are you doing?" Tony called.

Swiftly, Abby made a dangerous decision.

"In the closet, Tony, just looking at his clothes." She shut down Major Mini and shoved it back into her pocket.

"Anything exciting? I didn't really pay attention."

"He has a couple of funky costumes. I swear that one of them is an elf."

"Well, his name _is_ Elf Lord."

She laughed. "True. I don't see anything here, Gibbs."

She waited, but for once, Gibbs' famous gut let him down and he didn't twig to the fact that she had just lied to him. She wasn't even sure _why_ she was lying. She'd known (and trusted) Gibbs a lot longer than Tim. And she knew the danger inherent in hiding things from the NIU...but something told her that invading that space not only wouldn't help solve the case but also could be dangerous for Tim were it discovered...and she ached for the sad state of his life. Why make it worse? Let him do that himself.

"All right. What did you get?"

"Well, the crawler was pretty normal, but there was a weird isotope in its guts; so I sent it on to Sub York. You know, if you'd just get a lab here, _I _could do the forensic work totally on my own. I wouldn't even ask for help!"

"Not in the budget, Abbs. What else?"

"No suspicious fingerprints in the hallway...and nothing in here."

"Well, should we go to Ducky's place, then?" Tony asked.

"Do we need to talk to him again already? ...and since when do you call Dr. Mallard Ducky?"

"He said we could. ...and Ducky said that we should observe Mr. McGee in his natural environment."

"This _is _about Tim McGee as much as his sister. We need to know about him in order to figure out who killed Sarah McGee," Gibbs said. That was the end of it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place, Agent Gibbs. Timothy is not here."

"Where is he?"

Ducky smiled although Gibbs could see both worry and grief in his eyes.

"Oh, come now, Agent Gibbs. I know for a fact that everyone in the world is traceable through the wristbands we all wear. Now, I'm not going to follow the conspiracy theorists and say that they _are_ following our every move. Quite frankly, I feel our government is much too smart to waste valuable resources on that kind of foolish surveillance, but I'm sure that you could contact your central hub and find out exactly where Timothy is without even coming near to my home."

"I told you that I hate computers. You can get more and better information by actually asking people questions."

Ducky was quiet for a moment and then nodded, almost to himself.

"So, where did he go?" Tony asked.

"To work, at the library."

"He went to work?" Abby asked. "After his sister was _killed_?"

"He likes it there."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed for a moment. "That's almost _exactly_ what Mr. McGee said to me last night."

"It has the virtue of being the truth, Agent Gibbs."

"But not the whole truth."

Ducky didn't respond.

"And you don't lie, do you."

He nodded. "As I told you before."

"Yes. Tell me why he would go there just after his sister died."

"I suggest you ask _him_, Agent Gibbs. Timothy is at the library."

Gibbs smiled unexpectedly. "Thank you, Ducky."

"You're very welcome."

The agents walked away from the door together.

"You like him, Gibbs," Abby pointed out with a smile.

"I do find him rather refreshing."

"Why?" Tony asked. "He doesn't seem to trust us any more than anyone else."

"But he's honest...and his lack of trust has less to do with us than with our organization."

"That's an improvement, how?"

"He's not confusing us as individuals with the establishment," Abby said.

"Exactly. Let's get to the library."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"He's in the Sound Room!" said the old librarian...very loudly.

"The Sound Room?" Tony repeated.

"Just follow the noise!"

Tony rolled his eyes and walked back to Gibbs and Abby who were holding back grins.

"He's playing with us...with all that shouting. He might be deaf and older than sin, but he knows exactly what he's doing."

Abby giggled and waved at the old man who gave her a wicked look.

"Well, he said to follow the noise!"

She cupped her hand to her ear rather dramatically and then pointed.

"That way!"

As they approached the Sound Room, their pace slowed. There was indeed noise. Tim was singing...trying out a new song, it sounded like.

"_...The stars are ours.  
__The stars are ours tonight.  
__They sparkle and shine so bright..."_

They thought he'd heard them and walked into the room. Tim was at the back of the room with a pair of antiquated headphones on his head. He was obviously _trying_ to sing, but his voice kept catching in his throat. He was listening to the music and singing along.

"_Relax! These galaxies dance and spin  
__To the music of the spheres..."_

A breath. Then, another. What he would not show them, he was now trying to suppress in private as well. ...or what he thought was private. He just couldn't manage it, although he tried.

"_Behold the blue horizon line  
__We see Orion rising  
__...the stars are ours!"_

Abby was about to clear her throat to get his attention...but Gibbs put a hand on her arm as Tim, unaware of them, pulled the old disc from the player and put it away before grabbing another disc and putting it in. The movements were sure. This was technology he knew very well, even though it was foreign to the three watching. Then, they watched almost in fascination as he began writing out notes on a staff...and singing at the same time.

"_Don't turn away;  
__I pray you've heard the words I've spoken.  
__Dare to believe;  
__Over one last time, then I'll let the darkness cover me  
__Deny everything.  
__Slowly, walk away to breath again...  
__On my own."_

"I don't know this song," Tony whispered.

Abby slugged him and put a finger to her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard such a melancholy song.

"_Carry me away..."_

A long pause. Then, he reached out and pushed a button.

"_Carry me away;  
__I need your strength...to get me through this  
__Dare to believe  
__Over one last time, then I'll let the darkness cover me..."_

Suddenly, they heard Tim begin to cry and the words faded to nothing. The headphones were playing whatever this song was, letting him grieve as he needed to. Abby held back tears of her own. She really, really wanted to give him a hug. There were a few attempts to continue singing before he finally succeeded.

"_...then, I'll let the darkness cover me...  
__Deny everything,  
__Slowly, walk away to breath again...  
__On my own...on my own..."_

That this was more than just practicing for a performance was obvious to all of them. Suddenly, although none of them had moved, Tim stiffened, straightened and pulled off the headphones before turning around and seeing them staring at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked...and then cleared his throat because the words had come out thick with the tears he'd been shedding.

"We had a couple of questions that came up while in your apartment."

"And you had to come here and ask me right away?"

"Yes," Gibbs said, not batting an eye. Abby was impressed.

"So, this is where you get your songs from, huh?" Tony asked, stepping forward to look at the old machine.

"Most of them. What do you want?"

"What _is_ this thing? Never seen anything like it."

"A CD player. What do you want?"

"How often are you in your apartment, Mr. McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim's eyes slid briefly to Abby who felt herself actually start to blush a little. There was no reaction on Tim's face, no way he could have known what she'd found. He just looked at Gibbs again and answered.

"Not much. I'm here all day. When I have gigs, I go to the clubs right after work, maybe stopping off to get my costume and then I leave. When I don't, I usually visit Ducky for a while. I always sleep there, though. Why?"

"Always?" Tony asked. "Never stay anywhere else?"

"Like where?" Tim asked. "I don't live very far from Ducky; so it doesn't make sense to stay the night at his house when my apartment is so close. There's no bed here, and I'm not staying the night at the club no matter _how_ late I get done."

Tony looked at Tim for a long time, trying to decide if he was playing dumb or if he really didn't have any idea where else Tony could be implying he'd stayed. There didn't appear to be any sign of falsity in his expression.

"Why is this relevant?"

"Because there is a reason her body was put outside your door when it was, Mr. McGee. We've placed the time of death as three days ago," Gibbs said.

Unexpectedly, Tim laughed a little and looked down.

"What's so funny?" Tony asked.

"Nothing. They waited to put her outside my door last night...for a specific reason, you think? Or do you think it was just the time an opportunity presented itself?" Tim stood up and faced away from them, thinking aloud. He definitely wasn't talking to _them_. He didn't pace. He just stood, staring at the wall. "There was nothing special going on yesterday. It was a typical day. I worked and then sang. Unless they knew I was doing new songs...but why kill Sarah over a couple of pieces of music? I've been doing this for years. That makes no sense, not for anyone, not even the government. No, it has to be just that this was the time when the opportunity would have presented itself. My neighbors were gone, visiting, vacationing. It's summer, after all." A cynical laugh followed that statement. "They wouldn't have had as much chance of being discovered. But how did they get her inside?"

Abby opened her mouth to speak, to interject something, but it was Tony who shushed her this time. He shook his head. Tim was doing their job for them, but from a position of greater knowledge. He knew things they didn't, things he wouldn't consciously trust them with...but he was helping them nonetheless.

"Not through the front...not through _my_ apartment even though it looks over the alley. It would have been impossible to get in through my apartment. I would have known. The back door. We've had problems with it being propped open the last few weeks...but they'd still need to get her upstairs." Tim turned back around, but his eyes were closed and he started moving his hands around, as if tracing a route. He started simply mouthing words and moving his hands. Occasionally, he'd shake his head and start over, wiping the air in front of him.

Abby's eyes were wide and she looked at Tony who actually looked a little wigged out by this display. Gibbs, on the other hand, was looking more and more suspicious, although Abby had no idea of what.

"I know how they got in," Tim said finally, opening his eyes and reengaging with the humans. "The back door was propped open. They had her in some sort of bag...with how she..." He swallowed. "...how she was, they would have had to have her...contained...somehow. The...the crawlers wouldn't have... There's a service lift beside the elevator. It's mostly used for bulky deliveries or people moving in and out. It's not really even an elevator. There wouldn't have been anyone back there....and I didn't go home at all yesterday. My entire floor was probably empty. Who called it in?"

"What?"

"Who reported her body?"

Gibbs pulled out his scanner, his one capitulation to technology (along with the wristband which was mandatory), and checked. "It was anonymous, scrambled signal with too little time to track it before the call ended."

"Then, _they _called because they wanted her found...but not necessarily by me. In fact, they probably wanted an investigation...but why? Why kill my sister just to provoke an investigation? What could that do? It wasn't just about that. It had to be about something else as well."

"And you know what that is, don't you."

Tim's body suddenly reacted as if to a small jolt of electricity. He looked at them for a moment and seemed slightly embarrassed by what had just happened. Then, he shook his head.

"No. I don't."

Unlike Ducky, Tim _did_ lie.

"Besides, this is _your_ job, isn't it? Finding out what happened? Who killed my sister? You want to find that, don't you? Don't you?"

"Yes, we do, Mr. McGee. Do you?"

"Then, if you don't have any more questions, I should get to work."

"Doing what? You were listening to music," Tony pointed out.

"There isn't anyone in the library right now besides you guys, the librarian and me. What is it that you're expecting me to be doing, Agent DiNozzo?"

"How do you know someone hasn't come in?"

Tim just smiled and began to clean up.

"Why don't you sing any of the new stuff?" Tony asked.

"Because most of it is crap," Tim said bluntly and turned around to put away the CD player. "It's all empty. Doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. I heard one just the other day by James Hugo that was excellent."

To his surprise, Tim turned back around and laughed in his face. "James Hugo? You want a plagiarist..."

"What do you mean?"

"His new song? That one you like? He didn't write it. It's from a group back in the time before the Descent. It was written by a guy named John Denver...and recorded by a group called Peter, Paul and Mary. All he did was change a few of the words to make it fit into this world. People don't ride on jet planes anymore. No space for them. So he changed it...but he gave no credit to the original composer...or to the arrangers."

"Why don't you turn him in, then?"

"Why would I do that? I think it's bad form to steal someone else's work, but it's probably been about a thousand years since John Denver was alive. I'm not interested in putting a hard worker in the hands of the government. As long as he doesn't make any trouble for me, he can do what he wants."

"Aren't you worried he'll step on your toes?"

"James?" Tim laughed again. "He wouldn't sing the kind of music I sing. He wants to be popular, wealthy. He doesn't sing songs that mean anything to him. He sings because it makes him money. I sing because..."

"Why?" Abby asked, softly.

Tim looked at her, as if trying to decide whether or not she could be trusted with any part of him at all.

"...because it's one of the few things that makes me feel really alive."

He must have caught the pity in her expression because he turned away and looked at Gibbs once more.

"Any other questions for me? People will start coming in later on in the day. We have our regulars who just come because it's a safe place to hang out, the few who are actually here to read the books, and then the occasional troublemakers. I have to be ready for them."

"Troublemakers? What do they do? Talk too loud?" Tony asked, hardly noticing that Tim was essentially herding them all toward the entrance.

"No," Tim said seriously as he walked, forcing them to keep up. "They've tried to set the books on fire before, tried to push around the people who want to read. This is a safe place and I want to keep it that way."

"And they listen to you, do they?"

Tim met Tony's skeptical gaze.

"Try throwing a punch at me, Agent DiNozzo."

"What?"

"Throw a punch. Do it."

Tony looked at Gibbs who threw up his hands without speaking. Abby saw that Tony was, for the first time, thinking about Tim as more than a weirdo.

"Come on, Agent DiNozzo, you afraid?" he asked mockingly. "I'm just a librarian."

Tony shrugged but then, almost in a blur, hauled back and swung at Tim's face. His fist didn't make it. Tim whirled around, grabbed his wrist and shoved Tony against the wall before he could do more than express surprise.

"People don't try to make trouble here more than once, Agent DiNozzo, not if I catch them at it," Tim whispered in his ear before letting him go and stepping back.

"How did you do that?" Abby asked, intrigued. "You don't look that fast...but it was like you were moving before Tony was."

"That's the trick," Tim said. "I'm not really that fast. I'm just good at understanding what people are going to do. Agent DiNozzo wanted to catch me off guard..." He looked steadily at Tony who didn't deny it. "...but he was already tensing his muscles to swing; so I just had to be ready to catch his arm. If I hadn't been paying attention, I'd be the one with dirt on my face."

Tony rubbed his cheek quickly and Tim laughed at him again.

"It's all about anticipating the attack...especially when you know it's coming. It doesn't take training, just practice. I've had to learn."

"Why don't you just report these people?" Gibbs asked.

"For what reason? How would that help? To bring the attention of the government down onto this place I enjoy? I don't think so. I can take care of myself without any _help_ from you people. Eventually...places like this will be closed up, deemed too dangerous as a repository of ancient information...much like the songs I sing. Why hasten that day?" He met Gibbs' gaze almost daring him to say something more, something about how the government is only protecting people...which was the usual response to such accusations. Gibbs said nothing.

"So...what do you do on the down time...when you're not listening to music?" Abby asked.

"Why does it matter?"

"I'm just curious."

"I read," Tim said and then pointed to the exit. "If that's all, I have things to do."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. McGee."

Tim just nodded and walked away from them over to the librarian who waved them away.

"Well, let's go. We have work to do," Gibbs said and suited actions to words.

"What work do we have to do?" Tony asked as soon as they were out of the library. "Why would he think the government would shut a library down?"

"Because he knows what's going on in the government," Abby said softly. "He knows about the new bill coming up."

"How would he know that? It's not public yet."

Gibbs gave them both looks that said very clearly _shut up._

"We need to go over everything we know so far. So be ready when we get back." He got into their personal transport and pulled away, almost before they could get in. While the rank and file public was expected to take the tram or walk, government officials were provided with speedy transportation to help facilitate their work.

...only when they were actually working, of course.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Once the invaders were gone, Tim tapped the librarian politely on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Did you tell them we were closing early today?" he asked slowly.

The librarian shook his head.

"Why not?"

"They didn't ask," he said at normal volume and grinned before waving Tim off.

As he headed back to the Sound Room, Tim felt himself smile...a rare enough occurrence at any time...right now, it was near-miraculous. He checked his wristband. No one was in the library yet. Only two life signs registered. His smile became slightly cynical. Modifying the wristbands was illegal, of course, but that had rarely stopped Tim in the past...and it didn't now. _His_ wristband was set to detect life signs by tapping into the global network. Basically, he had reversed the process that was usual on the bands and made it his own detector. It was tapped into his apartment security as well as the library system, and he could know if someone was following him. He kept the regular functions going, of course. If he didn't, someone would be sure to notice...but he could turn it off if he ever wanted to.

A slight warming of the band told him that someone had just stepped inside. So much for listening to any more music today. He turned around and headed to the entrance to determine what kind of patron had entered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Campfire!" Tony announced joyfully.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Tony, we're just having a meeting. You don't have to act like a little kid every time we circle the wagons."

"You're one to talk about being a kid."

"What do you mean by that?"

Gibbs sighed at the squabbling. "Don't make me headslap you, Abbs."

"You wouldn't!"

"I will if you don't get back on topic."

Abby cleared her throat. "Fine, then. Sarah Jane McGee."

Tony jumped in. "Middle child of six. Tim McGee was the oldest. She started going to Georgetown Mammoth, majoring in English literature but transferred to Carlsbad U two years ago, like Mr. McGee said."

Abby took over. "Seems to have a typical college life. She lived in a dorm..."

"When are we getting her personal things?" Gibbs interrupted.

Tony checked. "On their way, Boss. Should be here tomorrow."

"Right." Gibbs sighed but gestured.

"Her wristband was deactivated a week ago; so we can't say for certain what was done to her between that time and her murder."

"The NIU team in Carlsbad say that none of her friends noticed anything strange and they thought she had come here to Mammoth to visit."

"Relationship with her brother?"

"Friends say that it was a bit rocky and had been for at least a year, but that she had decided she needed to patch things up. She told them that she missed her brother and he was all she had."

"We should tell him that," Abby said. "He should know."

"Not now."

"Gibbs," Abby insisted, "he has no more family. He should know that his sister was ready to talk to him again before she died."

"Not _now_, Abbs."

"Nothing else from the Carlsbad team, Boss. She didn't have a ticket on file; so she hadn't bought it yet. Carlsbad is too big to determine if someone guilty was around her when her wristband stopped working. That happens too often for the central hub there to have noted it. Mine shorted out just last week."

"So did mine," Abby said, scrunching up her face a little. "I never realized how much I depend on it until I lost it for...about...an hour..." Her eyes widened. "Gibbs..."

"Check."

Tony caught on and leaned over Abby's shoulder as she tapped in to see when Sarah's wristband had stopped working and when her own band had shorted out.

"Exact same time, Boss," Tony reported. "There was a massive short circuit in the bands, a flicker for most people, but some lost their service for an hour."

"That's when they took her."

"Who could hack into the central hub? That's...that's totally secure!"

"Obviously not. Let the team know where to focus."

"On it, Boss."

Abby bit her lip. "Gibbs...what if–?"

"We don't know anything yet, Abby. Be careful about saying too many things you can't back up."

"Okay, Boss, they say they'll start checking on their end."

"Good. Anything else?"

Abby shook her head. "She was a good student, had a lot of friends. Nothing exceptional about her, really...just a regular student."

"Until someone killed her," Tony pointed out.

"Tony!" Abby slugged him.

He rubbed his arm and tried to fend her off. "It's true! That's what makes her exceptional."

"Okay, what about her brother?" Gibbs asked, grabbing Abby's arm to keep her from hitting Tony again.

"Started out unexceptional," Tony said, eyeing Abby nervously. "Got tested at age eight and got sent to smart kids school."

Abby grabbed the display from Tony's hands. "He got sent to the Guiding Genius Academy? Oh, I am _so_ jealous! I wanted to go when I was little. I _begged_ my parents to let me get tested. They said no."

"You didn't forge their signatures?"

"I tried. I wasn't very good at it back then...and you can't get tested after age ten. Genius apparently only manifests itself before that." She sighed. "I was always a little disappointed. I wonder what he got to do there. No one ever gets to know unless they go."

"It's about genius, Abby," Tony said. "It's a bunch of nerds who probably just sit around and talk geek to each other."

_Thwack!_

"Could we get back to business, please?"

Tony took back the display. "Sure, Boss. He went to smart kids school until age fifteen, was slated to head to MIT but after his family died, they waived it for a while to let him get his life back together. ...wow, they gave him a whole two months. Nice of them. Not rushing or anything, are they? Whole family dies and they give him two months to grieve?"

"He did take Sarah with him, like he said," Abby reported. "They made a special provision to have her there. They got some special quarters and instead of living in the complex like most of the students, he lived just outside it and was conducted in every day while Sarah went to school."

Tony squinted at the screen. "Huh. That's weird."

"What?"

"It says here that he graduated at 21."

"That's fast...but...what's weird about that?" Abby asked.

Tony looked at Gibbs. "People just don't graduate from MIT. Who's the last person you know who went there and ended up working _other_ than for the government or one of those big research companies...which is about the same thing anyway?"

Gibbs' brow furrowed for a moment. "I can't remember the last time."

"Exactly. Why did he graduate and go to a _library_...and a _print_ library at that? Why would they _let_ him? It costs a lot of money to educate those geeks. ...and he just throws in the towel and says that he's done?"

"Good point."

"Well, maybe they just didn't need him there," Abby said.

"After thirteen years worth of education? Don't you think they'd have a nice little niche carved out for him?"

"After that?" Gibbs asked.

"Like he said. He went and got a job at the library. Started singing a couple of years after that and has been ever since."

Abby grabbed the display again. "Wait, there was something a couple of years ago...about the time he said that Sarah transferred to Carlsbad..." She looked at it. "Okay, so I was wrong. There was a request that he join one of the research projects. He was declared mentally unstable by..."

"Dr. Donald Mallard?" Gibbs suggested.

"Got it in one. He also had two other psychologists sign off on his diagnosis which means that Tim McGee can't get a job _anywhere _that requires a higher mental capacity."

"No working for the government, no working in research. No one mentioned _that _when we talked to them," Tony said.

Gibbs smiled. "Ducky did say it was impossible to tell the whole truth. Since Tim McGee obviously _isn't_ mentally unstable, that's an interesting piece of information."

"Yeah. Why would he get that kind of declaration if _he _didn't want it, Boss? Why _would_ he want that kind of thing? It condemns him to jobs like the library until he dies...he couldn't even get a job _here_...and we're not exactly known for our intellectual prowess."

Abby slugged him again. "Speak for yourself, DiNozzo!"

"Will you stop hitting me, Abby?"

"When you stop sticking your foot so far into your mouth, I will."

"Ducky said he liked working at the library," Gibbs said, pulling them back on topic once more.

"He said that, too. Why? With how smart he must be, how much training he must have had...why would he enjoy shelving books and keeping the delinquents in line?"

Gibbs' band beeped at him and he sighed before hitting the acknowledgment code.

"What does the brass want now, Boss?"

"Guess I'll find out when I get up there. Get a record on everything you have and put in a request for Tim McGee's education file."

"You're not going to get that, Gibbs," Abby said, shaking her head. "No one gets to see educational files."

"Did I ask for a commentary?"

Abby shrugged and then watched him go.

"All right," Tony said. "I'll bet I finish first."

"You know, there's an easier way to find out the details of Tim McGee's education than asking for something we're not going to get."

Tony had already started logging the information they had gathered thus far. "What's that?"

"We could just ask _him_ about it. After all, he was there."

"Right. That's really likely, Abbs. He doesn't trust us at all. Why would he tell us information that has been deemed too sensitive for prying eyes?"

"If _I_ ask him nicely, he might do just that."

"Better you than me," Tony muttered.

"Well, of course."

"Before you go and kill our Mr. McGee with kindness, maybe you should do what the Boss asked you to do. Not even the great and powerful Abby Sciuto can ignore a direct order from Gibbs."

Abby laughed, but she knew Tony was right. Her burning questions would have to wait.

---

Tim sat at the typewriter, rage burning up inside him. It was funny how easy it was to pull out the anger when every other emotion only came after so much effort. Anger, though, that was always there, just beneath the surface. They had encouraged the anger. It had been a way of focusing attention on the task at hand. Desperation and guilt would do it as well, but anger, properly controlled, was better. Studies had shown.

For once, however, he couldn't think of anything to write...at least, he couldn't think of anything to add to his newest book. That was a problem he'd never encountered before. He always had something to say...but he had to be careful to keep personal details out of it. Personal details, personal axes to grind were the ways that people got discovered...and silenced. There was a sentence or two in _The Sky's the Limit_ that pointed to him...but he hoped it was hidden enough, embedded within the larger discussion, to keep anyone from noticing.

He wanted to rant and rave about the monsters who had murdered Sarah. This was not a healthy anger...well, he had to admit that none of his anger was healthy. It just worked. This anger, however, was destructive and he had to get it under control before it consumed his reason. He didn't like it when that happened. ...he had only let Ducky see that once, but once was all it had taken for someone like him to realize just how damaged Tim was. ...that destructive anger had actually saved him.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Hands clenched into fists for a moment and then let loose. There was no one else in the library right now. Even the librarian had gone home. He could stay all night if he wanted...except that he couldn't because he had told Ducky he would be back. Ducky was now the one person to whom he felt unable to lie.

Deep breath. Slow, steady exhale.

_Fact: Birth rates have fallen by 20 percent in the last twenty years. People are reacting, even subconsciously, to our continued imprisonment beneath the crust. They don't want to bring children into a world of rock. Who would choose rock over light? We are not bats, blind and feeling our way by the use of sonic waves. We are not cave crawlers, scurrying around through the grime, searching for our next meal. We are not cave dwellers. It has taken time, but it is showing. Perhaps when we first descended, and the real plan was known to everyone who reached the sanctuaries scattered across the earth, we were simply patient, looking forward to a time when we could return. Now, however, we are being told that there is _no_ return. There is _no _looking forward. We are simply stuck down here until we all die._

Deep breath. No. No more would be written today. It was too hard when his stomach churned with suppressed rage. He had to leave now before he let it out. Maybe someone would try and approach him on the way to Ducky's. A fight would be a nice way to get it all out...but that would also attract unwelcome attention from on high...and attention was the one thing he really didn't want...not yet.

---

"The Triumvirate will see you now, Agent Gibbs."

"Thanks." Gibbs stood and walked into the office. The directors didn't usually meet together. That they were in this case was an indication that there was something big going on.

"Have a seat, Agent Gibbs," Director Vance said seriously.

Gibbs sat. It might surprise those who knew him, but he was always on his best behavior when meeting the higher-ups. They were only a few steps below the global leaders and that meant treading carefully. Doing otherwise could be hazardous to his health.

"What is it, Director Vance?"

"NIU Mossad has sent someone over here," Director Shephard said. "One of their elite. She'll be here by tomorrow."

Elite. That meant assassins. "Why?"

"We're not sure," said Director Morrow, "but one of our undercover operatives noticed that she was carrying a slim monograph with her on the float."

There was only one person whose books could mean anything important. "Thom the Gem?"

"We think so."

"But I thought _we_ had a task force in charge of finding him already."

"We do," Vance said. "Director David has never been impressed with our progress and has threatened before to take matters into his own hands. We think that he is finally carrying out that threat."

"What does the Hegemony say?"

"Nothing as yet. We're trying to solve this in house. Quietly."

"Why bring me into it? I'm not involved in finding revolutionaries."

Shephard leaned forward, hands clasped in front of her. "Because we think that this operative is going to be operating far below the radar. The task force doesn't have time to look out for an officer doing things her own way."

Privately, Gibbs figured that would probably be a lot more useful than what they were currently doing, but he didn't say that.

"Are you pulling me off my case?"

"No," Vance said. "We want you _aware_ that you might be seeing her. She has a way of getting into things she shouldn't."

"She?"

Shephard actually smiled...a serpentine grin that did nothing for her. "Director David's own daughter. She has been groomed for her position since she was old enough to hold a gun."

"How do you want me to proceed?"

"As you deem best," Vance said.

"I'm pretty sure you don't want me killing the only daughter of the director of NIU Mossad."

Morrow laughed. "No. If she gets on your radar, let us know. We can have teams following her, but we'd rather this be done without fuss."

"Yes, sir."

"How _is_ your current case progressing?" Shephard asked.

"It's still early but it seems to be an organized murder. She was kidnapped from Carlsbad, killed and somehow transported here, over the course of a week, all without being observed."

"Puzzling," Morrow agreed. "Don't let this distract you from your case, then. Revolutionaries like Thom are merely problems to be solved. I don't much relish having Mossad here showing us up, but if she manages to find and kill him...that's one less problem to deal with."

Gibbs nodded.

"Dismissed," Vance said.

Gibbs stood up and walked out, past the assistant at her desk. He didn't let out the breath he'd been holding until he was safely in the elevator.

---

To his disappointment, Tim made it back to Ducky's house without incident. In fact, there were very few people about. This always happened when there was a murder. It was as though death was a disease and they were afraid of catching it.

He felt like there were lead weights in his shoes as he walked up the path and opened the door. Ducky was there, as usual, but this time he had a relieved smile on his face at the sight of his dour friend.

"Timothy, I'm so glad you're home. We waited dinner for you."

"You didn't have to do that, Ducky. I'm not really hungry."

Ducky, ever the gracious host...even to Tim, unassumingly slipped Tim's bag off his shoulder and pointed to the coat rack in the hallway.

"I'm guessing that you didn't eat at all today."

Tim thought about it. He didn't really remember if he had eaten or not.

"If you can't remember then, you didn't. Come, lad. You need to eat."

Tim could see that Ducky was determined to get him into the kitchen; so he nodded. It wasn't even that he didn't appreciate what Ducky did for him...but the reminders of how life had been for him...a long time ago. He didn't need that. With a deep breath, he walked into the kitchen and saw that Ducky had indeed been holding dinner just for him. He sat down and waited as Ducky quietly called for Jimmy to come down for dinner. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that this was a life without the trappings of his own, that if he looked out the window into the back patio, he'd see, not the rocky darkness, but the unending night sky. He opened his eyes and tried to smile at Jimmy. He almost succeeded.

They sat down together, listened as Ducky said grace as always, and then began to eat. Dinner was a rather silent affair. Tim ate only a little but he watched as Ducky and Jimmy ate. Tim felt isolated from the two of them...related by blood as they genuinely were...and without the history Tim carried around with him. Both men could feel, could express affection. There wasn't much of that yet on Jimmy's side, but they were both adjusting to each other's presence. Ducky had lived alone for a long time, and Jimmy...who knew exactly what his life had been like before coming here, but it was surely very different.

With time, they would likely become friends, become family. Tim just watched almost with envy as his relentless mind analyzed their actions, their personalities and estimated how long it would take for them to become the family Tim knew Ducky wanted, the kind of family Tim just couldn't share with him...because his own family lay so far in the past, even farther back than the flood. It lay back before he was a genius.

His last mouthful almost didn't make it down his throat. Abruptly, Tim stood.

"Thanks for dinner, Ducky," Tim said. His plate was barely half-emptied, but he couldn't bear the thought of sitting there any longer. Instead, he took his plate to the sink and then walked out into the back. He sat on one of the artfully displayed boulders Ducky used as decoration, closed his eyes, and wished one of his many hopeless wishes. None of them ever came true.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Abby stood at the entrance to Ducky's property. It looked small from the outside, but she could tell that it was merely an architectural illusion. It was a house reflecting the kind of person who lived within it. Ducky was a lot more than met the eye; so was his house.

"Okay, Abby. It's simple. You're just curious. After all, this is something _you_ wanted for yourself when you were younger. Exactly. Anyone would wonder. Who wouldn't want to talk about school...even if it's to a member of the NIU. But I'm not a member of the NIU right now. I'm just Abby Sciuto, genius wannabe. Yes. That makes sense, doesn't it? Yes. It does. Good...now, you have to walk forward. He doesn't bite...well, not with his teeth. His words aren't very... Walk forward, Abby!"

Finally, after her little pep talk, she stepped onto the path and walked to the door. Hesitantly, she knocked and then waited. She wanted to run when it opened, but she felt that she'd now committed herself to this course of action.

"Why...Agent Sciuto, what brings you here at this time of night? Does the NIU not take _any_ breaks at all?"

Abby forced herself to smile. She could see the vague suspicion in his expression even if he was being kind.

"Actually...Dr. Mallard..."

"You may call me Ducky."

"Ducky...actually...I'm not here officially."

"Well, then, Abigail, come inside." He stepped back and let her in, although there was still a hint of skepticism. "What can we do for you?"

"Um...I wanted to talk to...Mr. McGee."

"Oh...I...am not certain this is a good time."

"What do you want?"

The voice was cold and unfriendly, and Abby turned around to find Tim standing behind her, staring her with open suspicion and distrust. She was used to being distrusted because of her job, but she couldn't get over how extreme Tim's feelings seemed to be about them.

"Timothy, that is no way to treat a guest."

To her surprise, Tim actually seemed slightly ashamed. Ducky's good opinion was one thing he seemed to care about.

"Why are you here?" It wasn't much more friendly but it was less combative.

"I..." Then, she amended what she had been planning to say. Tim wouldn't believe her unless he got the truth. "We were going over the case this evening and looking at what we knew. Part of that process is going over the backgrounds of the people involved...and we saw that you were part of the Guiding Genius Academy. I...when I was little I wanted to be a part of it." Abby saw the concern on Ducky's face as she spoke, but his concern was all for Tim whose expression was wooden. "I just wanted to know what it was like. We're not allowed to see education files. Those are kept classified. I'm just curious."

There was a long silence after her explanation.

"And you want me to tell you."

"Yes."

Tim looked at Ducky for a moment and they seemed to have an exchange that needed no words.

"Fine, then. Come on." He turned around and walked through the house. Abby followed him (noticing vaguely that Ducky didn't come with them), looking around at the rich and tasteful furnishings until they came to a back door that led out to a kind of rock garden. There were a few flowers but mostly, it was rocks, designed to make their environment look as beautiful as possible.

"It's lovely."

"What is?"

"The yard."

Tim looked at it and then at her. "I guess it is."

"You don't like me, Mr. McGee."

"I don't know you, Agent Scuito." The way he said it made the two statements equivalent.

"Right. You can call me Abby."

"To level the playing field? I might forget that you belong to an organization that could arrest me without cause and you might forget that I'm only a librarian?"

His sarcasm made her flush...but it also made her a little bit angry. "I didn't come here as an NIU agent, Mr. McGee."

"But you still _are_ one, aren't you? Or are you going to feed me some line about whatever I tell you being just between us?"

"I'm not. I can't...but I didn't come because I wanted information for the case. I don't think it's relevant. I came because I wanted to know about your education. My parents wouldn't even let me get tested and I always wanted to go to that school."

Tim sighed.

"Mr. McGee, I–"

"Under the circumstances, I guess you might as well call me, Tim...Abby."

"Okay."

"Abby, are your parents still alive?"

"Yes. Why would–?"

"When you leave here tonight, I suggest that you contact them and thank them for not letting you get tested when you were a child. Thank them for not destroying your life...as my parents unknowingly destroyed mine."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't. There's a reason why the educational files for the geniuses are sealed. Not even the sheep who mostly populate this place would fail to see the horror in what is done in the name of education."

Tim stood up and walked away from her, to a particularly large rock. It had a couple of indentations in it, just at the right height for seats. He sat down on one, and after a moment, she joined him on the other.

"If you really want to know the whole sordid story, I'll tell you from the beginning. Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Why? I've just told you that it's a bad thing, that you are more lucky than you could possibly know. Why do you want to know more?"

"Because I'm curious...and..."

"What?"

Abby looked down at her hands, unsure of how honest to be.

"What?" he asked again.

"I feel sorry for you. I want to know why you're...the way you are."

"You feel sorry for me?"

"Yes."

His laugh made her look up, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking up toward the top of the cavern. At this time of night, you couldn't even see it. It was just a faint dark shape.

"I never thought I'd see the day when someone in the _government_ said they felt sorry for me. That's not been my experience."

"Is that why you're so angry?"

"That's an interesting question...because the answer is both yes and no. I hate them for what they did to me...but they're the ones who made me angry. They _wanted_ me to be angry...but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me warn you that you won't like the story." His voice took on a nasty sarcastic edge again. "Listen up, class, and I'll tell you the whole sorry tale of young Tim McGee and the big bad government."

Abby watched as his face shifted from angry to upset and finally settled on a blankness much more disturbing than anything else she'd seen. It kept her from saying anything to soften whatever Tim was about to say.

"I grew up loving to learn. Do you know how that feels?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, you probably do if you wanted to be with the smart kids. My parents would give me a book and I would devour it. It didn't matter what subject or how hard it was. I would read it. I just enjoyed learning...and I was good at it. By second grade, my teachers didn't know what to do with me because I'd finish the work in five minutes and then be bored. One of my teachers started giving me a calculus textbook that she had from her own college courses, just to keep me occupied, not because she thought I could actually do it. No one told me it was hard; so I just did it. My parents found out and they were amazed."

"So am I. You were doing calculus at seven?"

Tim shrugged. "I wasn't doing it right. I was fumbling my way through it, and I didn't really understand _what_ I was doing because I didn't have any of the background to explain the foundations of calculus. They were just math problems...something hard. There was nothing special about it really...but my parents felt so sure that they had a genius on their hands that they promptly scheduled an appointment to have me tested. I was excited at first. The test was fun, challenging in a way that school wasn't. I enjoyed analyzing each question...even if I understood it right away. I savored the questions." Tim actually smiled briefly.

"I can tell by your face. You liked it. What happened?"

The smiled vanished. "I passed. I got accepted. I was transferred from my regular school where I was bored but had fun to that place... They give it such a friendly name: Guiding Genius Academy. It sounds like all they're doing is shepherding young minds, helping them reach their potential."

"It's not?" Abby felt her own face scrunch into an expression of confusion.

"No! Don't you understand what I'm telling you? Going to that school was the single most horrific experience of my entire life...and that _includes_ my family drowning...and Sarah being murdered. It was...was..." Tim took a few deep breaths. When he resumed talking he was back to the blank dead stare again. "It was horrible. I was eight years old when I started going to that school. It's a boarding school. I was allowed home for a couple of months every summer when I was so deadened that I didn't even consider the possibility of telling my parents how horrible it really was. They might have been worried. I don't know. I really don't remember much of most of my visits those first few years."

"Deadened?"

"My every move was regimented. I would get up...I don't know what time it was." He shrugged. "It didn't matter. Time wasn't important, although I felt the hours, the unending hours. From the moment I woke up, I was being educated, trained. Twelve hours every day I spent sitting at a terminal, doing drills, learning lessons, being tested. When the results weren't high enough, we were punished and made to repeat them until we did them right."

"How did they–?" Abby stopped when she saw Tim's expression. "I don't want to know, do I."

"No. You don't...but they used shocks...like cattle prods. They weren't dangerous, didn't last more than a second or two, but they hurt. So we were literally goaded into doing better. Better and better as the work got harder and harder. Twelve hours every day. Because my aptitudes had been skewed heavily toward math and science, they also had me hooked up to the computers for four hours every day. I was to learn every detail about the hardware, the software...everything that made the computers work. I tapped into the mainframes, the wiring, everything about the computers. Four hours every day. Then, I slept for eight hours. That was the rule. Sleep and work. No breaks. No play time. No friends. No emotions. Crying was banned. We weren't allowed to laugh, to cry, to shout...nothing. We were housed separately, no dorms. Just rooms. We must have eaten, but I don't remember eating at all. Maybe we were on IVs. I really don't know. The only people we saw with any frequency were our _teachers_...I started calling them taskmasters."

"Why would they do it that way?" Abby asked, horrified...and a little sickened.

"Because it worked," Tim said, bluntly. "Their methods were cruel but they worked. After seven years of that, do you think there was anything I wouldn't learn, any lesson that I wouldn't be taught? ...but I hated it. I hated them...and they discovered that my anger was easy to direct into the lessons being learned. They set up a false escape route. I finish the lessons, I'm free." His face twisted again and she could see him fighting against the anger again. "They lied. I finished early and they lied. I started to see what was in store for me, especially when they went to my parents and told them that I'd been somehow admitted to MIT, that I was going to be sent to have my education finished. I knew what was coming. More of the same, only worse...and when I went home that summer, I had decided that I wasn't going to go back. There was nothing my parents could do about it; so I was going to end it all."

He had said it so logically, that Abby missed the significance of what he had said.

"You mean you were–?"

"Yes. I couldn't live with going back to school again. Can you imagine feeling that way? I _hated_ learning. I _hated_ knowing things. I hated every minute of every day of my whole life. ...but Sarah heard me when I was sneaking out of the house and she followed me while I walked to the outskirts of Sub Salt and started to climb. I heard her when she slipped and called out. I told her to go back home, but she wouldn't. She wanted to come with me, her big brother whom she saw so rarely. I wasn't happy about that; so I was about to force her to go home when I heard the...the water coming. I thought about running home to warn people, but my brain wasn't listening to what I thought. My brain was running scenarios, about twenty different scenarios in as many seconds and I knew that Sarah would die if I tried to warn anyone...and it was unlikely that anyone would be able to get to safety. I discarded any thought of letting anyone know. I just grabbed Sarah and started climbing to the top. I knew she couldn't do it on her own. She was so young. Eight years old. She would have died if I had gone through with my plan."

Tim looked up at the ceiling of the cavern again, leaning back against the boulder, hands pillowed beneath his head. If it hadn't been for the blankness, he would have looked relaxed, but Abby could see the tension in his arms. She didn't speak, but she began rubbing her arms, feeling cold...but not entirely because of the clammy chill of the night. That was normal...but she was feeling something else.

"I got us up to the very top and couldn't go any farther. I watched the water come in. I heard the screams drifting up from below as people started dying. I held onto Sarah and began to calculate how high the water would come. I knew there was no egress for the water. The only way for it to get out was by overflowing from the tunnel where the tram had been made. The tram itself was destroyed. I watched it fall as tower after tower collapsed beneath the onslaught of the water. The trams don't float, by the way. The Salt Dam had been the largest built. It held back the water used in countless ways...and all that water came pouring in on the city...and I knew everyone was going to die...except for me and for Sarah. It didn't seem fair to me, but I knew that if I died, Sarah wouldn't be able to manage on her own. So I stayed. I made her keep her eyes closed; so she didn't see the bodies...or the crawlers that came out after the first two days and started eating them. When they crawled on us, I'd brush them away and tell her it was just dirt falling from the ceiling. She believed me. She never saw."

Silence fell. Abby wanted to say something, do something to make this better, but she could tell the story wasn't over yet. When she had come over, she had expected something completely different and now, like she was watching a tram crash, she wanted to but she couldn't look away. She could see Tim's life getting worse and worse by the moment and she couldn't even move to stop the oncoming collision.

"I thought for a while that maybe since my family was now dead they might have some pity on me and let me go. Callous, wasn't I? ...but I thought it...even though I hated myself as I did. I had to take care of Sarah. I had to make a life for her. Ducky couldn't do it. He wasn't family. It had to be me. I was her brother. ...and they proved that they knew how to work around everything by allowing me to take my sister with me to MIT. How could I explain to Ducky why I didn't want to go, why I didn't want this great opportunity? ...and I had given up believing that anyone could do anything for me...only _to_ me."

"So you went?"

"I went."

"What was it like?"

"Like the academy...only worse. Now, I was more or less an adult. The only capitulation they had to make was to let me out to take care of Sarah. I couldn't really tell _her_ anything. She was eight years old. What could she have done besides worry about her big brother who was supposed to be the one in charge? I had to pretend I felt things...even though I didn't feel anything besides anger. I had to pretend I felt for her what she felt for me...and in time, I found that I could feel a little bit of that. ...but I never let her know just how little I could feel. I would stay up after she was in bed and watch her sleep...and then I would get up early and watch her until she woke up. It helped me remember that I loved her.

"Now, they split up the day half and half. I was learning still for eight hours, but the other eight were spent exclusively working on the computers. I can write programs with my eyes closed. You could tell me something you wanted a program to do and I could write it...probably in five minutes, unless it was complicated; then, it might take me a day. Two at the most. It's never taken me longer than that to do anything they asked me...mainly because that's the time they gave me to get it done. I tried to refuse once or twice but they had the perfect insurance...and I found out why they let me keep Sarah with me."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"To whom?" Tim asked.

"To the leaders. Surely, they would– " She broke off when Tim laughed at her. It was a combination of incredulity and ridicule. She hadn't been made to feel so much like an idiot since she first got Major Mini and couldn't even figure out how to turn it on.

"You're kidding, right? Do you _honestly_ believe that the Hegemony is unaware of what is done to people like me? Can you be so naive that you don't know that they _sanctioned_ this program? That everything done is done with _their_ blessing? They _need_ people like me working in the government. They _need_ people like me to further _their_ plans. That's what the Guiding Genius Academies are for. How could you possibly work for the NIU and have no idea just what kind of people you're working for? I can't believe you could be so obtuse. I thought you were _smart_."

Abby didn't know what to say, but she didn't like being made a fool of.

"Where's your proof?" she shot back.

"I can't show you my proof. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because if I showed you, you would have to arrest me. ...and you would do it because you would have to."

"Not necessarily."

"You would. It would be a far bigger problem than that room you found in my apartment today."

Abby felt herself blush bright red. "How do you know–?"

"Haven't you been listening, Abby? Do you think I'm exaggerating what I can do?"

She shook her head.

"Good. Because I'm not exaggerating. It's a good thing you didn't try to get in, by the way. It would have burned to the ground."

"I didn't find any sign of radioactivity."

"Nothing so complicated. I want it kept secret. I don't want to kill my neighbors."

"What's in there, then?"

Tim laughed again. It was not a friendly laugh and she wondered if he had _ever_ laughed like a normal person.

"Do I need to define the word _secret_ for you, Abby?"

She flushed again and shook her head. Tim knew how to wound with words, how to humiliate without laying a finger on her. She really was surprised at how good he was with his words.

"Well, the story is pretty much over."

"How did you get out?"

Tim looked at her directly for the first time.

"What?"

"You said that the government had plans for you. How did you get out? Your record says that you graduated...and you ended up at the library. How?"

Tim looked away from her, back toward the house where the silhouetted form of Ducky could be seen in the window.

"I asked Ducky to kill me."

Abby followed his gaze.

"He wouldn't do that."

"Obviously."

"How did that get you out?"

"Because he finally understood what was going on. Five years of absolute Hell...and finally someone was able to save me." Before she could ask, he continued. "No, I won't tell you how. You might be able to find out yourself, but I'm not going to make trouble for Ducky. Not now. Not ever. Anything I have done, will do...none of it can possibly go back to him."

"Except that he signed an affidavit affirming your mental instability."

"Doctors make faulty diagnoses all the time. Two other highly prominent psychiatrists gave the same diagnosis. There's power in multiple affirmations...and if you don't think I can act unstable when given a need, you have absolutely no concept of who I am."

"No...I think you could. ...I think maybe you _are_."

Tim smiled ironically. "If I am, you can turn around and thank our precious leaders for that. I was a normal little kid before they got their hands on me...maybe a little smarter than the others. I never was very good at making and keeping friends, though. ...and I'm certainly no good at it now. If that's a sign of mental instability, then I am guilty as charged."

Abby couldn't figure out how she felt as she stared at this man sitting in a rock garden and essentially telling her that he loathed everything about her existence...well, he wasn't _exactly_, but she understood that he had extended his loathing of his educators onto the whole governmental structure. ...at least, that's what she told herself.

"Any more questions for me?"

"Have you ever been happy, Tim?"

"Happy? Happiness is as foreign to me as sunlight...and just as attainable. Remember this, Abby Sciuto: I am what I was made to be...things just didn't turn out quite as my makers planned."

Abby sensed the dismissal and she turned to walk out of the garden when another question struck her. She turned back and asked it before she could even think twice about the wisdom of it.

"Tim, do you like to sing?"

Startled, Tim seemed to give the answer in kind.

"Yes. I love to sing. That's why I do it." He looked away. "You can let yourself out."

This time, Abby did leave. When she stepped back inside, Ducky was there waiting.

"Yes, he told you. I can see it in your face. It is just how I felt when I first realized the truth."

"Are you _sure_ it's the truth, Ducky?"

"Yes, my dear. I'm afraid so. Timothy gave me proof...incontrovertible...and highly illegal."

"What if I was recording you saying that?"

"You're not."

"How do you know?"

"For one thing, you said you weren't here in an official capacity...and I believe you. For another, I have a very good security system."

"Designed by Tim McGee?"

Ducky smiled at her, much more kindly than Tim had. "Who else? I believe it took him two days to do it. Since he is not polite enough to show a lady to the door, allow me to do so."

Abby smiled and let him lead her further away from the man who had disturbed her peace of mind.

"I dare say he has given you much to think about."

"He told you more than he told me."

"No, probably not...but I _witnessed_ more than you could ever imagine. I witnessed something I hope never to see again in my life."

"What?"

"A young man so broken that he had no hope for _anything_ in the world. I saw someone who had been so thoroughly damaged that his entire life was empty. Believe me, Abigail, as bad as he may be right now, this is like night and day to how he was ten years ago."

Abby thought she couldn't feel any more anguish for Tim...but she was wrong. Ducky's expression, his words...they told her as much as Tim had.

"I wanted to give him a hug."

"I think it probably is just as well that you did not try. Displaying affection to one who feels none is a risky proposition."

"Feels none?"

"I told you he was broken."

"Oh...I forgot. I wanted to tell him that we found out Sarah had been talking to her friends and she was coming here because she missed Tim and wanted to have her family back. She was coming to mend fences."

Ducky nodded. "I will let him know at the appropriate time. Thank you for telling me. Good night, Abigail. Travel safely."

The door closed gently but firmly behind her and Abby swallowed her sadness. What Tim had said, what Ducky had corroborated meant more than she could have ever anticipated when she had decided to come here tonight. She wished she could somehow go back in time and _not_ ask Tim what his education had been like. It made her ill. She could imagine someone like her younger brother in such a situation only too easily. Remembering what Tim had told her at the beginning of her visit, she keyed in the code for her parents' home in Sub York. The conversion from typescript to spoken was almost instantaneous.

"Mom?" She smiled even as she felt tears in her eyes. "Yeah, everything is fine. Remember how I was always mad at you for not letting me go to that school for smart kids?"

She waited.

"Well, I'll never be mad at you again. Thank you so much for not letting me go."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Ducky watched Abby until she disappeared into the gloomy night. No, she wouldn't be sleeping much tonight, poor thing. Jimmy reemerged from his room.

"Uncle Don?"

"Yes, she's gone, Jimmy."

"I know. Don't you ever wonder why things are the way they are?"

"Occasionally," Ducky answered and sighed. "Why?"

"Mom was your sister."

"Yes. We hadn't spoken in some time, but yes."

"She said that it wasn't enough to wonder. You had to do something about it."

"She always was more about action than talk."

"So was she right?"

"Who knows, lad? Things are so rarely what they seem."

"It got her and Dad killed. Was she right?" Jimmy asked again.

Ducky put his hands on Jimmy's shoulders. "Lad, I would not venture to say. Your mother saw the world very differently from me. We disagreed on how to proceed. Was her way right and mine wrong? I don't know. I am alive...but living is not always the most important thing."

"She said that, too."

"Jimmy, I wish I could tell you what is the right way to live. I wish I could see how best to help you...but I am still figuring it out for myself...and for others."

"Oh, I'm not really in a rush," Jimmy said, changing tacks abruptly. "I just want to understand. I don't know how I should feel."

"Nor do I, lad. Nor do I."

Jimmy sighed but gave a small smile before going up to bed. Ducky sighed once more and stared after his nephew. There was a tangled web...but simpler in its own way than Tim's problems.

Speaking of... Ducky looked back. Tim hadn't come inside yet. He wagered that telling his story had not made him feel any better. Nothing ever seemed to work as it should with Tim. He would have to try, yet again, to draw him out. Sarah's death had brought the first emotion other than anger that Ducky had seen...beyond when Tim sang. There was a difference. Part of it was the persona...but there was something more. Tim was almost _alive_ when he sang, and Ducky wished that he would try to maintain that when he stepped off the stage.

_Well, how does the saying go? Third time's the charm. ...or in Timothy's case, the millionth time. At least._

Smiling to himself, Ducky slid open the door and stepped outside. It was hard having a friend like Tim. Friends really didn't accurately describe them, but he had no other word for it...except perhaps...family, even if Tim couldn't allow that thought in his own mind. Nothing for it but to keep trying, as one did with one's family.

"You gave Ms. Sciuto quite a lot to think about, lad."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Ducky almost winced. The anger was there now. Whatever he might say to the contrary, Tim _preferred _the anger to other emotions. It was easier...and he had a lot of practice controlling it. He rarely lost control of his anger. He used it to focus himself...as he had been "taught" to do.

"It's a lot to take in for people in her position. You could have softened the blows a bit."

"Why? What has she done to deserve it?"

"What has she done to deserve otherwise?"

"She's working for _them_," Tim said. He wasn't looking at Ducky, choosing instead to stare out at the world he hated. It gave him far more scope for his limited emotions.

"Which does not, in and of itself, make her a bad person. Timothy, you can't lump everyone together like that. You know that she...and the rest of that NIU team are good people."

"Good people."

"Yes," Ducky said firmly.

Tim didn't reply. Ducky waited for a few seconds and then judged it was safe to approach. Tim had lowered himself to the ground, using the rock for a backrest. Ducky slid down next to him, knowing that he'd regret that when it came time to get up again.

"You're disappointed in me, aren't you."

"Not necessarily. Should I be?"

"You think I haven't worked hard enough."

"At what?"

"Everything."

"That's a rather all-encompassing word."

Tim sighed. The anger was fading which meant he would try to fall back on feeling nothing in place of anything else. It was a cycle repeated with depressing frequency. Ducky didn't want that to happen this time.

"You think I should be doing more with my life."

"Yes, I do. I think you are wasting yourself by hiding in a library and singing at a club. Sometimes, I feel that we did the wrong thing by signing that affidavit. The research project wasn't part of the government. It was a good thing they were doing, Timothy."

"Maybe."

"No. It was. You know the problems they've been having in Sub Angeles with earthquakes. This was about designing better detection for tectonic shifts."

"Yes, and when that was finished, where would I end up? Back in their hands."

"Which is the only reason I agreed. I'm still not certain that your paranoia was warranted."

"You didn't have to live through it."

"No, that's true. I didn't."

"Don't I deserve some time to figure things out?"

"If that is all you were doing, Timothy, you would have 'figured things out' years ago."

"I'm tired, Ducky. I think I'll go in."

Ducky put his hand on Tim's shoulder, knowing that the younger man wouldn't persist in trying to go. For whatever reason, it had always worked. A simple hand on the shoulder functioned as well as a chain around the leg. Ducky used that knowledge to force conversations Tim didn't want to have.

"Timothy, stay."

Tim sank back down beneath the weight of Ducky's hand.

"What else do you think you have not done that disappoints me?"

"I can't be the kind of person you want me to be, Ducky. I can't."

"You were for Sarah."

"I had to be for her. She couldn't know...that..."

"That her brother was badly hurt?"

"That I didn't feel anything for her."

"That is a lie, Timothy. You _did_ feel something for her. You _loved_ her."

"I acted like I did."

"No." Ducky shook his head, even though Tim wasn't looking at him. "No, you loved your sister. You just wish that you didn't because it would hurt less and it wouldn't be so frightening."

"You _want_ me to hurt more." It was an accusation, one said so many times that it had no sting.

"Only so that you live like a human being. Timothy, you float through the background of life, looking on, wishing you were a part of it but holding yourself back from it."

"It's not my fault," Tim said softly.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is at this point. Timothy, it has been ten years...a _decade_ since you were in their power. You are in no danger of them taking you on again. You have seen to it that _no one_ will take you on, not for the rest of your life...but still, you live as though at any moment they will come bursting out of the closet like childhood demons and take you away. You must realize that your life means _nothing_ without people in it!"

Tim pulled briefly against the hand but Ducky didn't loosen his grip. In the wake of Sarah's death, Tim's ability to hide had been weakened. His emotions, always so well-restrained, were emerging, however slightly. Perhaps, her murder might have some good...she had saved him once by living...maybe she could do it again by dying.

"What they did to you was evil, vile and cruel beyond belief, but you have to admit that it is _you_ who is refusing to feel. It is _you_ who is fighting the emotions inside you, not them."

"I don't feel anything."

"Yes, you do. You are lying to me, my boy. A man who feels nothing does not weep for hours, inconsolable. He does not fall asleep still weeping for the loss of the one person for whom he truly cared. A man who feels nothing does not go crazy with grief and try to reenact his original suicide attempt once again."

Tim turned to look at him, his eyes much too bright.

"Yes, Timothy...I know _exactly_ what you were thinking. You were thinking that you could finally get away from your grief by doing what Sarah had kept you from doing all those years ago. You were doing it in a haze of grief, but still, that is where your mind was. I did not tell Agent Gibbs that because he did not need to know. He received a part of the truth, but you and I both know what you were feeling in that moment."

Ducky was relieved that Tim didn't bother to deny what was so obviously true.

"I care for you, Timothy. God as my witness, I care for you as if you were my own _son_. I have tried over and over through the years to let you feel that you are still part of a family if you wanted it...but you don't really, do you. You want to be alone, cut off emotionally; so that when you finally achieve your own self-sacrifice, you will do it without anyone to care for you."

Tim took a shuddering breath but said nothing. He was trying to pull away, feeling trapped by Ducky's words but unable to lie to the man he counted as so much more than he wanted to admit.

"You have failed in that attempt, Timothy. You have _failed_. You, who have succeeded at nearly everything you have set out to do, forced or voluntary, you have _failed_ at removing the people who care. Sarah told her friends that she wanted to have her family back. She was coming here to see you to make things right again. Her death does not remove that connection."

Tim tried to look away, Ducky could see it, but he didn't succeed. Ducky wouldn't _let _him succeed in breaking this link.

"I care for you still, Timothy. No matter what you do to try and drive me away, you will not succeed. We may not be bound by blood, but we are by water...the water that took your family from you sent you to me...if _only_ you would accept it! Open up your bruised and battered heart and let it _feel_ again, Timothy! Stop torturing yourself with every new day. There is no punishment for caring. There is no punishment for happiness, although you think there is. There is no punishment in forging a connection with another human being. You are not a machine, no matter how long they forced you to think like one. You are _not_!"

Ducky felt tears in his own eyes, but unlike Tim, he didn't not hesitate in letting them fall.

"It is tearing me apart to see you go on, day after day, pursuing the same meaningless dream of dying to escape this world you are in. You could not commit suicide because your sister saved you. You could not get _me_ to kill you because I refused. You could not even do it mad with grief. Accept that something, that some_one_ wants you to live and really _live_!"

They looked at each other in the gloom of the night, Ducky shedding tears, Tim just breathing. Then, suddenly, Tim looked down.

"I buried them, Ducky."

"What?"

"I buried them...I buried them all myself."

"Who?"

"All of them. Mom, Dad...all the way down to baby Kelsie." He had to stop because he was hyperventilating.

"When did you do this?"

"That night...you got...got m-m-mad at me because...because I disappeared...and S-S-Sarah was afraid b-b-by herself. I...I snuck out...I went to where...where...where they were. I searched through a-a-all the bodies until I f-f-found them."

Again, he stopped, hindered by his breathing. Ducky was in such shock that he could do nothing but stare.

"It t-t-t-took so l-l-l-long and the crawlers...they were...they were everywhere...and...and they..." He couldn't continue; he was trembling.

Ducky removed his hand from Tim's shoulder and pulled the shaking body to him, holding him close.

"I was so...so tired, D-D-Ducky...but I c-c-c-couldn't let them... They were...were already...and...and...and I can't, Ducky. I can't s-s-see that...not again...I can't l-l-l-lose anyone else." His voice began to rise as the tears clogged his throat. He was stiff in Ducky's arms, not wanting to give in to the comfort Ducky offered. "The crawlers...they g-g-g-got S-Sarah, too...and I..."

Ducky finally found his voice. "Let it go, Timothy. Let it go."

"I thought...I thought Matthew was...was...m-m-moving at first...but it was..." He stopped still only breathing, not crying. Tortured gasps as he tried to speak. "I d-d-don't want to...to...to feel that... I want to be....m-m-mad...it...it doesn't make me feel like my...my brain is...on fire and...I can't...and I don't want...and..."

"Let it out, Timothy."

"No...No...No..."

"Yes. Let it out, now, lad. It's been half your life. Let it go, now."

"Takes over...and I can't...have to think...have to think...always have to think."

"No, Timothy. Not always. Sometimes, you can just feel."

"No...N-N-N-No...can't feel...can't f-f-feel." Tim tried to pulled away from Ducky's comforting arms, but he was shaking so badly that he couldn't get his body under control long enough to run away.

"I know it's hard, lad. I know, but feeling is worth it. You know that they won't be there to put you down for showing you care."

In spite of Ducky's words, Tim never cried. He just shook and trembled...and breathed. Ducky held onto him, hoping that he would, for once, allow the feelings to be there. However, half an hour passed and Tim began to calm down...or rather, he began to suppress the churning emotions inside him, giving the _illusion_ of calm.

"I don't know how anymore." It was said in an exhale.

"There's something in this world Tim McGee doesn't know?" Ducky asked lightly.

"It's like languages...I never could master them."

"Only because you didn't care to, Timothy. You could have done it if you had wanted to...just like your emotions. You could have them if you were willing to _try_ to have them."

"You think I'm better than I am, Ducky. I'm not."

"Perhaps it is actually that you are _better_ than _you_ think you are."

Tim smiled a little at that.

"Ever the optimist."

"True. I am happier that way."

Ducky smiled but inside his heart ached. Once again, Tim had withdrawn to the emptiness he preferred...and with Sarah dead, it would be harder and harder to get him to come out. Reluctantly, he took his hand away from Tim's shoulder and was unsurprised when Tim stood. He started to walk away but stopped and turned around, offering Ducky his hand.

"Thank you, lad. I'm not as young as I was."

Tim began to walk inside again.

"Leave the door unlocked. I'll come in a few minutes."

"Good night, Ducky," Tim said. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. If you're not ready, you're not ready. Not even I could insist on you doing something you don't think you can. If you think you'll fail, you will." Ducky looked away from Tim and out at the city. "Good night, lad."

"I'm sorry, Ducky," he said again and then left.

Ducky sighed as the door slid closed. "So am I, lad. Oh, so am I."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Alone, Ducky stared out at the world in which he lived. He could see it, but he couldn't feel the dull burning hatred Tim felt for it. He wondered where it had come from. It had to be more than the loss of his family, more even than his education. There had to be something more. He wondered if it had come before or after their risky prison break from MIT. He had never truly understood how Tim felt until they had made their plans...and both of them had approved them. Tim's breakdown, while violent and shocking, had not hit home exactly what Tim felt was at stake.

Ducky leaned against the boulder, remembering that horrible plan. Even now, ten years after the awful moment, he could not believe that they had done it, still less that _he_ had agreed to it. The whole thing still gave him occasional nightmares.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abby, it's really late," Gibbs grumbled.

"I need to use your computer, Gibbs," Abby said urgently.

"Why?"

"Because I really need to...and I know no one will be watching your computer," she said honestly.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that.

"Please, Gibbs?"

He sighed. "All right. It's in the basement."

Abby walked quickly past him and stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Gibbs...what in the world is _that_?"

Gibbs looked over her shoulder and shrugged. "Just something I saw in an old book."

"But what _is_ it?"

"It's a boat."

"What's it for?" Abby asked, thoroughly distracted by the strange thing she was looking at.

"Sailing, apparently."

"Sailing?"

"Yeah. It's the opposite of what the floats do. They travel near the bottom of the ocean. These apparently float on the top of the ocean."

"Huh. Weird. I mean, obviously it has to work...they used do that, I'm assuming, but... You found it in a book?"

"Yeah."

"So...why are you building it?"

"To see if I can. I've had to make it up...can't find any instruction books on how to build a boat...probably won't work out too well."

"I'll bet Tim could find you a book about it."

"Probably...and since when has he been Tim to you?"

"Since tonight. Oh, Gibbs...I asked him about his education and...and it made me _sick_! The things they did to him...just because he was smart!" Suddenly remembering why she was there, Abby whirled around and launched herself at the computer, sitting idle...as it usually was. "I wish I hadn't asked him, but now I have to know something else."

"What?"

"He said that the way he got out might be available in the records. He wouldn't tell me the details, said he didn't want to get Ducky in trouble."

"So...why are you looking it up?"

"Because I have to know."

"You said you didn't want to," Gibbs pointed out.

"I didn't...but I do now; so I have to know the rest. I need to understand him, Gibbs."

"Why?"

Abby stopped her furious searching for a moment...and she turned around.

"Because he said that this was something the government did him. _We're_ the government, Gibbs. This is _us_ he's talking about. What if..." She didn't finish the treacherous thought and instead turned back around.

"Tell me what he told you."

"I don't want to. It's too awful."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me while you search."

So she did as she typed and plugged away, wondering how long it would have taken Tim to find the file she wanted...probably seconds.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_It's the only way, Ducky."_

_Ducky was aghast. "Do you understand how risky this is, Timothy? Do you know what could happen?"_

_Tim was still on his knees, his knuckles bleeding from where he'd beaten the wall in his frenzy of insanity. He hadn't had the energy to move since the frenzy had passed, since he had fallen to his knees to beg for Ducky to end it for him._

"_Only what I want to have happen...and that's if it _doesn't _work." He looked up. The uncontained fury had ebbed and he was almost completely in control. After the violence that had nearly destroyed the entire room, Ducky was almost afraid to approach this strange young man who had somehow taken the place of the child he thought he remembered._

"_I simply will not let you die, Timothy. Don't ask me to do that."_

"_Time it right and I won't...but I'll free. Please, Ducky...I can't bear this anymore. You know what they'll do to me if I stay longer. I've finished the program. There's nothing more for them to teach me...that means they'll be using me...all the time."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs was as horrified as Abby (albeit more quietly). He hadn't expected that. Gibbs could imagine some pretty awful things, had _seen_ some pretty awful things in his time...but he hadn't expected what essentially amounted to torture of a child until he was little more than automaton.

Then, Abby gasped. He looked over her shoulder.

"I found it, Gibbs. I found what he did...what _they_ did to get him out."

"What is it?"

"It's a hospital record."

Gibbs squinted. "Make the screen bigger; I can't read it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, Timothy."_

_Tim was still kneeling, but now, he was holding a knife from the kitchen in his hands._

"_You know they won't believe a simple attempt claim. That happens all the time. It has to be real. You know what will happen if you tell them what I did in here. I'll be labeled a claustrophobic. You know what it will mean to them. They won't take any risks on destabilizing the system...but if they have a hope that they can use me later...they'll let me go now. After all this time, all this effort they put into shaping my _genius_, they'll not let me go so easily."_

_Ducky nodded and put on the gloves that would keep his fingerprints from getting on anything they would be using in this horrific play._

"_Very well...very well, Timothy. I can only thank whatever God there may be that Sarah is visiting my brother right now. There is no way she could possibly understand this."_

"_Let's just get it done." He lifted the knife._

"_No! Wait, Timothy! You must be careful! If you cut wrong...you could sever the nerves. Do that...and you will face much worse than working for these people you hate." Grimacing, Ducky knelt on the floor and shifted Tim's grip so that the knife was at a better angle. A tear came to his eye as he did so. "You're certain you have our bands properly reprogrammed? No one will be able to tell the time difference?"_

"_If I don't know how to do something simple like that after thirteen years..." Tim paused and patted Ducky on the shoulder, smiling for just a moment...but it was a cold smile. "It's not so bad, Ducky. It's a win-win situation. I've always wanted to die. Now, I'll know how it feels to come close."_

_Ducky had never felt so old, nor so afraid. "If you die, Timothy, I don't know how I'll be able to live with myself."_

"_Hey, you're the best anatomist in the world, Dr. Mallard. You won't let me die." Tim's laugh was hollow and cold. It meant nothing, not even an expression of nerves...because Tim wasn't nervous. He wasn't feeling anything but commitment to this course of action._

"_Ready, lad?"_

_Tim didn't answer. Instead, he turned his wrist and swiftly sliced open the vein. Then, he went to the other wrist and did the same. He was as quick and accurate in this as he was in everything. He watched in fascination the blood start to pour out of his body._

"_How long will it take, you think?" he asked. _

_Ducky couldn't watch. He reached for his band. Tim clumsily reached out a bloody hand and shook his head._

"_Not yet. It has to be real."_

"_It's real enough, Timothy!"_

"_I thought it would hurt more, Ducky. It doesn't really..." He swayed. "It's...kind of...hard to breathe... That's kind of...weird."_

"_It's been long enough!" Ducky pushed the medical alert on his wristband and was just in time to catch Tim as he began to crumple to the ground._

"_Maybe..." Tim said, between breaths. "...maybe...this could...it..."_

"_No! No, I told you I will _not_ allow it!" He ripped strips from his shirt and wound them around Tim's wrists._

"_You're...upset, Ducky. ...they'll believe...that..." Tim's eyes began to close._

"_No, Timothy! No!"_

_The door burst open and Ducky was quickly shoved roughly aside by medics who had too much experience with suicides. They checked the bandages, added more, strapped Tim to a stretcher and carried him away, leaving Ducky behind on the bloody floor, sobbing at the exigencies the government had forced upon them._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"They planned it," Abby said. "Tim told me that Ducky got him out. They must have...but you can't fake a medical emergency, not like that." She looked at Gibbs in absolute horror. "They set up a suicide..."

Gibbs read the screen, looked at the numbers. He wasn't a doctor by any means but he knew what a blood pressure reading that low meant. Abby was right. That couldn't be faked with the medical instruments they had now.

"He almost died for real, Gibbs... His life was so bad that he was willing to risk really dying just for a chance to get away. What have we done to people?" Abby looked literally ill, sickened by what she was seeing.

Slowly, Gibbs reached out and turned off the computer. The file, unsaved, vanished back into the database from which Abby had pulled it. Then, he pulled Abby into his arms and hugged her tightly, feeling her slight trembling. He had always wondered how she could not see the way things were...but she was definitely seeing it now...and any thought he had to the possibility of this being just one of her quirks, that she pretended not to know, now was proven false. She was truly shocked at what she had learned.

"What kind of people do we work for?" she asked plaintively.

"The ones who have all the power, Abby," he whispered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_The next time Ducky saw Tim, he was lying in a hospital bed, pale, still...but alive. He was hooked up to machines; there were white bandages around his wrists; his breathing was slow. ...but he was still alive. ...and Ducky held in his hand, a hard copy of Tim's "graduation" certificate. Tim had been out for more than a day. He had almost died, and Ducky had spent a sleepless night berating himself for allowing Tim to convince him that this was the only course of action. _

_Now, he held the proof of the success of their awful plan. He just had to wait for Tim to wake up to show him._

_As he sat beside the bed, he held Tim's hand in his own, praying desperately for the young man to wake up._

"_Did it work?" The voice was so soft, but Ducky heard it and instantly looked up._

_Tim's eyes were heavy-lidded, but he managed a real smile._

"_It worked, Timothy. They processed the graduation just this morning."_

"_Thank you, Ducky."_

_Ducky stood, leaned over the bed, and pulled Tim into his arms. Tears fell from his eyes as he felt just how weak Tim was at this moment. ...and Tim never returned the hug, not perhaps out of a conscious lack of desire, but it couldn't truly be ascribed to physical weakness._

"_Never again, Timothy. I will never do that again, not even for you."_

"_It won't take that next time."_

_There was no emotion in his voice at all, just a calm statement of facts, and Ducky was hit anew with the implications of what Tim meant by their treatment of him. He actually felt nothing at this moment, perhaps some relief, but he was already planning for what needed to be done next. That emptiness in his voice, the lack of any real concern...it tore at his heart more than the screaming and the pleading had._

"_There will be a next time?"_

"_Yes. Absolutely. Not for years, but they'll remember me eventually."_

"_I won't do this again."_

"_You won't have to. I'll figure it out."_

_Ducky held Tim long after the younger man had gone to sleep. It wasn't to make Tim feel better...it was for himself. Tim didn't care._

_Tim didn't care at all._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What do I do now, Gibbs?" Abby asked.

"The same thing you do every day. Get up and go to work."

"How can you _say_ that when you know what they've done?" she asked angrily.

Gibbs let her go and looked her in the eyes. "Because, Abby, you are not the only person who is aware of the problems of our leaders...but the only thing we can do is try to do our job the way it _should_ be done. If there are enough of us doing it right, we won't have to worry about being corrupted."

"But–"

"And we still have a murder to solve. Those people who killed Tim McGee's sister are still out there, and we need to find them and stop them."

Abby's head dropped disconsolately.

"Are we clear, Abbs?"

"Yeah, Boss." She looked up and smiled a little.

"Good. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'm tired."

"I used to think that there were just a few bad apples. I didn't think the container itself was the problem. ...Tim was right. I really am naive."

"That's not a bad thing, necessarily. I'd prefer you naive to being like him."

"Thanks, Gibbs."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Go home, Abby."

"Yes, sir." She saluted and climbed the steps, out of the basement. Gibbs heard the door close and then sat down and sighed.

Sometimes, he wished that the world was different.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Shivering a little, Ducky finally went inside. The house was quiet; both of the troubled young men were upstairs, sleeping. There was a feeling in the house when the occupants were asleep. He decided it would be best if he followed their example.

...but first...

He climbed the stairs and walked to Tim's door. Quietly, he opened it and held back a smile. Tim might have complete control over himself when conscious, but when he was asleep, his body did what it wanted. His blankets were twisted around his waist; one arm was flung back over his head; the other was tangled up in the sheet; and his left foot dangled over the edge of the bed. Slowly, Ducky moved to the bed. He picked up Tim's arm, laid it across his chest, moved the dangling foot back beneath the sheet and began to untangle the other arm.

Then, he got a surprise. As he pulled back the sheet, he saw that Tim was cradling a doll in that hidden arm. He recognized the doll. It had been Sarah's, one that she had slept with until she had moved to Carlsbad. She had left it behind, declaring that she was too old for that kind of thing. That Tim had searched for it and was now sleeping with it in his arms told Ducky at least that there was _something_ to be found within Tim's mind, something that would unlock the emotions he obviously had.

Ducky examined Tim's face. It had a calmness in repose that was lacking in the blankness he embraced during his conscious hours. Gently, he swept Tim's hair off his face and then left the room.

Tim might have embraced despair for the time being, but Ducky could see reason to hope. ...and he would cling to that hope no matter how ridiculous it might seem.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tim woke up the next morning without much thought about what had happened in the night. One of the ways he had learned to deal with his life was to lock away the more distressing moments. Last night had been depressing; therefore, he locked it away. It wasn't that he had forgotten it; rather, the personal importance of it was ignored. It was a method of compartmentalization he had learned in order to retain the knowledge forced on him while ignoring how he had gained it.

What did surprise him was Ducky. When Tim came downstairs into the kitchen, Ducky didn't bring up their conversation of the night before. Instead, he smiled and squeezed Tim's shoulder before getting on with making breakfast. Tim didn't feel hungry but that was normal for him and logically he knew that he needed to eat. He didn't make any comment on not needing it this time. It was a strange sort of silence that dominated the kitchen. It was strange and different...but not bad. Jimmy was still asleep...or else he was down in the basement again. Either was equally possible.

Ducky put a plate in front of him, heavily-laden with more food than he would be able to force in. Tim got started on it and Ducky did as well. They ate without breaking the silence...until Tim felt he would burst if he ate any more. His plate was about half empty.

"I forgot to call Angelo. He'll be asleep now," he said into the strange silence.

"You can call tonight. He'll always want you to perform," Ducky answered.

"Maybe you should come next time."

"I'm not sure that would be my kind of music," Ducky commented, although he smiled a bit when he said it.

"Aren't you the one who says you need to try new things before you decide what you like?"

"Yes, that's true...but The Surface is definitely not my kind of place."

Tim sobered. "I want to do a tribute to...to Sarah, just one song at the end of the set."

Ducky nodded. "Then, I'll be there."

Tim looked at his band. "I have to go."

"I'll remind you to call Angelo."

"Thanks." Tim grabbed his bag and left before he could think or say any more about Sarah.

He arrived at the library just in time to help the librarian stop some people from trying to make off with some of the books. Tim threw a few punches and drove them off. It was fairly common and they weren't challenging enough even to bother reporting them. Tim preferred that to the ones who tried to burn the library down.

The librarian decided to close early again, although he didn't say exactly why he wanted to do that. He just gestured for Tim to leave. Tim suspected that he had some less than legal things he did on his own time. He figured that he didn't have the right to commandeer the library every day...and to be honest, he wasn't sure he could write yet. ...but if he went back to Ducky's place, he'd have to think of something to say, unimportant things to talk about, and that was really hard for him, even now. Instead, he decided to go and do the one thing that allowed his mind relief from the relentless thoughts that crowded his mind. The central tram station in Mammoth was a major transfer point from Sub York, Sub Richmond, most of the traffic from Europe, Africa and Asia came through Mammoth to head out to the rest of the country.

There was something about watching people...normal people...people who looked at the world around them with something other than loathing. Tim would pick out a bench in the station and just watch them, watched them interact with each other with happiness, pleasure...sometimes sadness or anger, but none of them seemed to see as he did. None of them looked up at the ceiling of the cavern and wished there was more. Most of them didn't even look up at all. Their lives were unencumbered by an awareness of more.

He sat and watched for a long time. It was another way of losing himself.

...then, suddenly, he saw a bushy head of brown hair standing in an open space. There was a bag over her shoulder. She was small, almost dainty...but with that mass of thick brown hair...curly. Against his will, his heart leapt and he stood and walked, almost before he could think of anything else, certainly nothing logical. He put out his hand and touched her shoulder.

"Sarah?"

The woman turned around and immediately he realized his mistake. She was older, the coloring was wrong, and she was alive. Sarah was dead. He knew that, had seen her body. What was he thinking? The despair threatened to overwhelm him and he pushed it away firmly.

"Sorry?" she asked.

"You're not Sarah. _I'm_ sorry."

"No, I am not." She seemed saddened by what she saw in his face.

Tim turned away, not wanting to stay any longer.

"Wait!"

He turned back reluctantly.

"Yes?"

"I am new here. I have never been to Mammoth before. I was...trying to get the lay of the land."

"There's a city map over there." He pointed toward a large display about twenty feet from them. He turned again.

"No, that is not what I meant."

For the third time, he faced her. "You mean, where are the places to go and the things to do?"

"Yes. Yes, that is it!"

Tim shrugged and forced a smile. "Sorry, I'm not the one to ask. I don't go anywhere and I don't do anything."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it." Tim started to walk away, but this time, he stopped...not due to another call from the woman but from a memory, almost a vision. He turned back and saw her standing still looking a little lost. "My sister would slug me so hard for treating you like that. I'm sorry."

"Your sister?"

"Sarah," he said and felt his heart twist again.

"She is...dead?"

Tim nodded. "Murdered. Two days ago."

"Oh, I am so sorry...and you thought I was her?"

"From the back you look alike. Not at all from the front...and she's dead. ...definitely no Israeli."

The woman looked down. "You could tell?"

"I know accents when I hear them. I don't speak Hebrew but I recognize the accent when I hear it."

"I am Ziva." She held out her hand.

Tim hesitated and then took it. "Tim."

"Do you really do nothing, Tim?"

"I don't do much. I work at a library and I sing at a club every so often. I'm a pretty boring guy."

For some reason, she didn't seem bored. She seemed interested. "I need to get to a library. Could I use yours?"

"Well, it's closed right now...and it's a book library, not a database."

"Yes, I had hoped so. I need to use a book library."

"Why?"

"I am not here for pleasure. I have work to do while I am in Mammoth."

Tim didn't know where the words came from but somehow, perhaps from Ducky's relentless attempts to force him to think like a normal human being, they emerged before he could take them back.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"That is one of the things I must discover. Is there a convenient public terminal that I could use? My trip was rather at the last second."

Again, the words were out without a chance for him to censor them. "Why don't you come to my friend's house? He has a terminal there. It's much better than the public ones...and you wouldn't have to worry about getting pushed around. This place gets pretty rough at night."

"I would not wish to impose."

The smile Tim let out was real and he wasn't sure why it was there at all. Maybe it was Ziva's similarity to Sarah. She seemed so small and out of place...and yet, there was an air of something else about her as well...something indefinable for the moment.

"Are you kidding? I think Ducky will have a heart attack at the knowledge that I brought someone home."

"You do not do that often?"

"No. Never. I'm a freak; so I don't have any friends."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "You are not joking."

"No." Tim felt the smile slip away. "You should probably know that I really am a freak of nature. ...Ducky isn't but I am."

She smiled. "So noted. I will come with you."

"Is this all you have?" he asked, pointing to her bag.

"Yes. I hope to be here only a short time."

"You don't know how long your business will take you?"

"No. Not yet."

As they walked away from the station together, Tim wondered what in the world was going on in his head that this woman who bore a passing resemblance to Sarah had brought him around to doing what would have been unthinkable a day ago. He honestly had no idea, but he figured there was no harm in being polite. After all, _he_ was the one who had instigated the exchange, not her.

An awkward silence fell. Tim didn't make small talk...and he had no idea what to say...and his mind was off to the races again anyway.

"What is this club at which you sing?"

Tim jumped a little. "What?"

Ziva smiled again. She was not in the least worried about being with this strange person. That made _him_ wonder if _he_ should be worried.

"You said that you sang at a club. What is it?"

"It's called The Surface."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, really? I have heard about this kind of club. It flouts the rules, yes?"

"It's not illegal," Tim said. "The music is iffy sometimes, but it's completely within the law. There aren't any laws governing what one can sing...not yet anyway."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you."

"No, I'm not offended."

"Is it open to anyone?"

"Yes."

"Who goes to a club like that?"

"All kinds."

"Fanatics?"

She seemed almost eager to see one.

"Is Israel that boring?"

She flushed.

"The Surface is just a place for music. I don't know if the people who come are fanatics. They don't get a chance to say anything. I do most of the singing."

"Really? So if I were to show up some night, you would be singing there? You do not look much like a singer."

"I know."

They walked along in silence again. Tim felt as though he should be saying something but, again, he didn't know what to say...and his mind went off on another train...one that, amazingly, led back to his book. He thought that tomorrow, he could probably take some time to write again. Then, he came back to the present with another jolt when he saw that they were almost passing Ducky's house.

"Um...this is it."

"This one? It is a very nice house for a freak of nature." She smiled teasingly.

"It's not mine. It's Ducky's. My apartment is currently... It's part of the investigation."

She stopped smiling. "Oh...I am very sorry. I have been ignoring your loss."

"It's all right. I have been, too," Tim said, seizing hold of the blankness again. "This way." He walked ahead of her, no longer able to keep up the facade of being anywhere near normal. He heard her keeping up behind him without trying to say anything else. That, in and of itself, made him think she might be worth getting to know. ...but then, if he couldn't reciprocate any friendly feeling, what was the point?

The door opened and Ducky looked at Tim...and then behind him and his eyes widened in absolute disbelief.

"Hi, Ducky. This is Ziva. She needs to use your computer."

"Oh! You are...a lot older than I expected," Ziva said in surprise.

"That makes two of us, my dear," Ducky said, smiling. "Come inside."

"I am sorry. Tim said that he was staying with a friend. I assumed that it would be a friend closer to his age."

"No. Don't apologize. Honesty is refreshing, and I'm sure it would be a surprise to anyone.

"She just got here from Israel and needs a place to stay for a few days," Tim said. "I said she could use your computer to find appropriate quarters."

"Of course. Of course."

"It is very kind of you...Ducky?"

"Yes. Most of my friends call me that. You're here on business?"

"Yes. It was a last minute assignment and so I did not have time to find a hotel."

"And Timothy invited you here?"

Tim could almost smile at Ducky's incredulity.

"I thought she was Sarah."

"Oh."

"The computer is right in here, Ziva." Tim gestured and gave her privacy to find a safe location.

"Timothy?"

"I don't know anything about her, Ducky. I just didn't think I should leave her standing there by herself, no matter what she does for a living."

"What does she do?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask."

"You didn't _ask_?"

Tim shrugged. He knew why Ducky was shocked...to be honest, so was he. He could have found out everything about her in moments, but he found that he didn't want to. Knowing more about people always seemed to destroy any amount of faith he might have in them to be good people. Let Ziva be a secret two-headed monster from the core of the earth...as long as he didn't have to know about it...

She came out a few minutes later. "Thank you very much. I have found suitable lodgings. I need to go and check in now. May I visit your library tomorrow, Tim?"

Tim nodded. "It's the Avenue Book Library. If you have a list of books you need, I can find them for you."

"I mostly need to browse, but thank you for the offer. Perhaps I could drop by and go with you? That way I would not get lost."

Ducky answered for Tim. "Yes, that would be fine. He will wait for you tomorrow morning, but he does need to go early."

"Of course. I will not make you late."

"Okay." Tim looked at Ducky and then nodded to Ziva.

"Tim will walk you to the tram station," Ducky said.

Ziva laughed. "No, that is all right. The hotel has cued my band to lead me there and it is not far from here. I will see you in the morning."

Ducky closed the door behind her and turned back.

"Will wonders never cease?"

Tim shrugged uncomfortably. "I thought she was Sarah, Ducky. I couldn't come at her and then just disappear again. It would be wrong."

"Well, whatever the reason, Timothy, I am glad that you at least _spoke_ to someone other than myself, Jimmy or Angelo."

"Oh, Angelo!" Tim turned and went off to call.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As she walked toward the hotel she'd found, Ziva wondered at herself. Usually, even when her travel was less than sanctioned or even when it was for pleasure (a rare occurrence), she would stay in the NIU lodgings which were a lot better than most of the public options. She didn't hide her occupation unless she was undercover...and she didn't engage in meaningless conversations. Now, granted, she felt that Tim might be a useful, albeit innocent, aide in her search for Thom the Gem, but she was aware that her actions were, in part, motivated by sadness for the desolate look she had seen in his eyes when he realized she was not his sister. The very fact that he had entertained the crazy notion told her that this was a death he deeply mourned.

His reactions, his conversation...they illustrated someone unfamiliar with human contact..and the idea of it was obviously slightly discomfiting to him...as if he didn't _want_ human connections. Well, he _had_ called himself a freak.

Firmly, she turned her thoughts back onto the task at hand. Tim would be useful. That was all that mattered. She reached her hotel, checked in and went to her room. She set up the portable NIU security and then contacted her father.

"I am here in Mammoth and have some ideas of where to start."

"_You are not in a secure facility, Ziva. Why not?"_

Ziva almost smiled at the fleeting concern. Every so often, she did remember that Director David was also her father.

"It is appropriate for my task. I will need digital copies of all of Thom the Gem's work. Digital. Carrying around the book drew too much attention. I would also like to have all the information you can get on a man named Tim McGee and a companion he called only 'Ducky.' He is a man of some wealth and should show up in a search."

"Why?"

"I want to be sure that they are who they seem to be. I ran into Tim McGee at the tram transfer station. It seemed a bit too easy. I wish to be certain. If they are, then I can make use of them."

"I will put Hadar on that task. You will have what you need by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, sir."

"Take care, Officer David."

"I will." She signed off and sat down on the bed and began scrolling through local news items. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for, even with as little as she knew about Tim.

_Woman found strangled outside Mammoth apartment_

_AP - Mammoth, SS - Sarah McGee, a 23-year-old student at Carlsbad University was found murdered outside her brother's Mammoth apartment last night. The NIU is not giving details but say that she was garrotted and left in the hallway of the apartment building where her brother, Tim McGee, lives._

_There are currently no known suspects and no motive for the killing has been released. "The case is still new," NIU Agent Anthony DiNozzo said. "We can't release any details right now." A close friend of Sarah McGee said that she and her brother hadn't been getting along in the past. Tim McGee, a local librarian, was declared irreversibly mentally unstable two years ago. He could not be found for comment. _

Ziva sighed and shut down the display. Leave it to the journalists to make everything sound as sinister as possible. Still, she hoped that Hadar would give her more information quickly. It had felt very strange to speak with someone about whom she knew nothing for certain.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Hadar came through in spades. Ziva had awoken as soon as her band had notified her of an incoming message...and she had been reading ever since...but not about Tim McGee. She had been reading the works of Thom the Gem whose eloquence had, if anything, only increased with his later books. Some of his publications had been small, but in every case, although a detailed search had been made, there had been no trace of the unit used to compose the texts. Even the dissemination was odd. Yes, there were printed books and those were nearly impossible to trace, but there were also digital forms of it going out to random people, to public exchanges. The new publications were attached to innocent public messages and then downloaded on accident. It appeared to be a one-man operation and this one man knew the system so well that he had learned to exploit it.

She looked again at the other file waiting for her perusal...but she found that she didn't want to read it. She knew next to nothing about Tim McGee, and it was an interesting way of approaching someone, knowing nothing but what he told her. She wondered what he would be willing to tell. Not much if she was any judge of human character...and since her life often _depended _upon her judgment...

Even so, she left the file unopened and walked out of her room, making sure it was completely secure. Mammoth was a safe city, but there was definitely a criminal element...no matter how harshly the NIU controlled things. As she walked back to "Ducky's" house, she considered what kind of experience could have brought two such disparate men into each other's lives. They obviously cared about one another, although Tim did nothing to show it.

She didn't even get a chance to knock; the door opened before her hand lifted. Ducky's security system must be top of the line.

"Good morning, Tim."

"Good morning. Are you ready to go?"

She nodded. "Lead the way."

He nodded and stepped out. He had obviously been waiting for her.

"Am I making you late?"

He shook his head. "No. I was just ready to leave."

"Oh. I see."

He walked...and spoke...just a bit too quickly. She couldn't tell if it was intentional or if he really wasn't thinking about it. Nothing to do but test the waters.

"Are you in a hurry, Tim?" she asked.

"No. Why?"

"You are making me almost run."

"Oh. Sorry." His pace slowed, but he didn't even look at her. She got the feeling that he was making no effort at all, where yesterday he had been...meaning that it took a lot of effort for him to interact on a normal level.

They reached the tram, still in record time, and rode up on the lift. Tim didn't act as though anyone around him meant anything other than to be a potential obstacle. She got on the tram and kept silent, watching him, but she was amazed at how little he gave away. His expression...well, there really_ was_ no expression on his face. If she went by what she could see, he would have no emotions at all. He wasn't tense. He just existed...except for his eyes. They weren't expressing emotion, but there was something going on behind his eyes. All the time. She wondered if his mind ever stopped.

The tram slid into the station and Tim got off, barely looking at her, although she was certain that he remembered she was still there. She wondered if he would hear her ask him questions though. She rather doubted it.

"How did you and Ducky become friends?" she asked.

To her surprise, Tim answered. "He was friends with my parents. He was always around when I was young."

"_Was _friends?"

"My parents are dead. In fact, since Sarah was killed, my whole family is dead." He might have been talking about the temperature of the city for all the sadness he expressed...and somehow that made her feel much worse for him that she would have otherwise.

"So, Ducky is your only family?"

"He's not family...just a family friend."

"How far is it to the library?"

"Just up here." He pointed.

Ziva was surprised at the size of it. Book libraries usually huddled in neglected corners of the city. This was a large historic building, complete with columns. It was obviously in a state of some disrepair, but it was not neglected.

"It is larger than I expected."

"This is the oldest book library in the Subterranean States. We get copies of all the new books being printed."

"New books?" Ziva was genuinely surprised.

"Oh, yeah. There are still a few books being published. We get them all."

"Interesting...So there must be many books in this library."

"I don't know the exact number but yes, there are quite a few."

"Are you sure you do not know?"

Tim thought for a moment. "No, I don't think I ever learned it."

"I see." That statement meant more coming from him than from other people, she decided. "Did you go to school here in Mammoth?"

Tim's hand had just been reaching out to open the door and she could have sworn it trembled, just for a moment.

"No."

"Where did you go?"

"MIT."

That surprised her again. Tim was full of surprises and she was unused to being surprised at all.

"And you work at a library?"

"Yes. Now, is there any specific thing you're looking for?"

"Not particularly. I just would like to browse."

"What exactly do you do?"

Ziva looked at Tim and decided that she didn't want him to know what she did. He would withdraw. Most people did, but she was finding this practice of peeling back the layers rather interesting.

"I am not exactly here...officially, Tim. What I am doing is very important, and I do not wish to break my streak and fail."

Again, she was surprised by his response. Most people would have been interested, intrigued or at least upset by the idea of someone doing something possibly illegal in their place of employment. Tim just shrugged.

"All right. I won't pry. This side of the library is fiction. That side is non-fiction. We still use the Dewey Decimal System. There's a card catalog over there, but it's also digital if you want to use that. The digital form is much faster than flipping through cards, but no one will know what you're searching if you do it by hand."

"Thank you."

He walked over to the counter and began talking to a man who looked old enough to have been there when the library was built. Ziva was tempted to stay and watch a little longer, but decided against it and began to peruse the volumes...while watching for people to add to her list of possibilities for investigation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, here's all her stuff," Tony said, wheeling it in.

"What have you got on the wristband malfunction, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing yet, Gibbs," Abby said. She was working as usual, but there was a missing spring to her step and she seemed a bit withdrawn. He knew why but he didn't like to see it. "They're looking through their files but it's a worldwide system. That's a hard nut to crack."

"Have you thought of asking our resident genius to help out?" Tony asked as he began unpacking the boxes.

"We can't do _that_, Tony!" Abby said, scandalized.

"Why not? We all know he's not a suspect, and you said he's going to be doing stuff on his own anyway, Boss. Why not get him to come aboard and at least do it officially?"

Abby shook her head wordlessly and looked at Gibbs, pleading for him to say no. He sat back and thought. He did have the knee-jerk reaction that Abby did to say no to anything that might remind him of that time...but in addition, there was the realization that Tim could probably do what they could not manage right now, and he had the extra motivation to find the information.

"We can ask him. _I'll_ ask him," he said, looking at Abby with an obvious order.

"Fine by me. He gives me the creeps," Tony said, oblivious to Abby's death glare. "Okay, first glance, I'm not seeing anything here to give an indication of something wrong. Obviously there was, but nothing in her room. The Carlsbad team didn't find any sign of an intruder in her dorm...no foreign fingerprints. Every single set has been matched to someone whose presence is accounted for."

"They weren't watching her at home. All they needed to know was the right time to catch her alone," Abby said, forcing her mind back on the task at hand. She turned back to the computer. "The time fits in exactly with the end of her class on that day."

"According to her friends, she was planning on buying her ticket and because the bands had shorted out, she was going to go directly to the tram station rather than use a public terminal. More secure." He grimaced at the irony.

"Okay, and we can't track anyone's movements during that period."

"Any word on the autopsy from Sub York?" Gibbs asked.

"They promised me the results by this afternoon."

"Okay."

The display beeped and Abby turned around to look.

"We got the report back on the crawler, Gibbs."

"And?"

"And if I had a mass spectrometer or a infrared spectroscope, I could have done all this myself."

"And?"

"And it's an isotope of carbon, not common in the West, but seen fairly regularly out here in the Eastern SS."

"Where?"

"Not in the cities...sometimes they find it in the disused areas, particularly, the older caves."

"Like...the areas where unclaimed bodies are disposed of?" Tony asked.

"Yep."

"Where's the nearest one to us?" Gibbs asked.

"About twenty miles west and up about a hundred yards."

"Oh. Joy," Tony muttered, knowing what was coming. "I've _always_ wanted to poke around the crawler dens."

Abby grimaced.

"Grab your gear," Gibbs said with a grim smile.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was beginning to get a vibe from Ziva. He wasn't sure just why he was, but it looked as though he would have to brave the disappointment of finding out who she was. It had to be that way. He smiled and waved to her as he went back to his special terminal. This was his own private computer. Private being the operative word. It was more secure than any government database...and it was used to infiltrate those databases on a regular basis, not for information for his book...but for other reasons, things the government probably didn't even know about.

However, this time, he _was_ going for a government database. He scanned in a picture he'd pulled from the library monitors and added her name, what he knew of it. Then, he waited. He didn't have to wait very long.

_Ziva David  
__Elite Force  
__National Investigative Service - Mossad_

It went on after that, describing her position, her age, date of birth, rank, weight, height...everything. Tim just sighed. So much for that. He was disappointed, and yet, he couldn't help but think of what Ducky had said to him, that they could still be good people even working for the government. He knew that was true but it was easier to dismiss the idea and just go on. She was Elite Force, though. That meant assassin. Who would she be searching for? He thought back to what he knew about the Mossad division of the NIU. There wasn't much...mainly because he hadn't had a reason to think about them.

Then, suddenly, he sat up straight. Director David...the head of Mossad. He was Ziva David's father. She had said she didn't want to fail. No doubt there was a double need for her to succeed. Did he want to know what she was doing? Yes and no. ...but she had admitted that her presence wasn't exactly official; so that meant it wasn't sanctioned by the higher-ups. More than likely, this was a mission given to her by her father without anyone else knowing. ...but why a library? Why would she need to use a book...library...unless...

_She's looking for me,_ Tim realized. _She's looking for Thom the Gem._ It was enough to make him laugh...silently, to himself. He couldn't believe it and yet it was the only explanation, at least the only one he could think of at the moment. Did she suspect him? Perhaps. Perhaps not. ...but what a coincidence. Of all the people he could have seen, of all the people he could have latched onto...it had to be the person sent here to find and probably to kill him.

_This is why getting to know people is so worthless, Tim. Why did you even bother?_

The worst part was that he couldn't even just drop her. That would be suspicious and could draw attention to him. He would just have to go on as usual, easy enough, and eventually she would move on. Hopefully, she would move on. He wasn't yet ready to be found.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was an occasional crunching sound.

"Man," Tony said, as their transport veered off into the unlit portions of the tunnels, "I never wanted to have a job that would make me need to go out here. It's really dark. And gross."

"Maybe next time, Abby will lend you Bert to hold onto while we're driving."

"No way," Abby said. "We come out here again and _I'm_ bringing Bert."

"How much further, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"Another two miles. Take the left fork, going up."

Gibbs turned and the crunching sound became more pronounced. Tony made a face but said nothing. Up ahead, in the glow of their headlights, they could see the pale scurrying crawlers as they moved away from the lights...and out of the way of the approaching treads.

It was only another few minutes before Abby said quietly, "We're here, Gibbs."

The transport slowed to a gradual stop. No one moved to get out. There, about twenty feet ahead and just off the road was a body...or what was left of it. The crawlers were voracious eaters, which was why this method of disposal worked so well. They were intolerant of light, could be in it for a while but generations in these dark caverns had turned them completely white. White, blind, and with a seemingly insatiable appetite.

"So...who gets to go out and collect specimens?" Tony asked.

"Thanks for volunteering, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"Some day, I'll remember to keep my big mouth shut," Tony grumbled as he searched for the specimen jar.

"And when that day comes we will _all_ celebrate."

"Ha ha. How many do you want?"

"Lots," Abby said. "...who do you think that...was?"

"No one we know."

"I hope not."

Tony swallowed and then opened and closed the door quickly. He ran around the transport to the front where the headlights were and then darted in and out of view, each time brushing crawlers off his clothes into the jar. He did not look happy about it. Neither Gibbs nor Abby spoke as he went about his collecting. They just sat, wanting to be gone, away from this grotesque version of a graveyard.

Finally, Tony ran back to the door and got in.

"Here's your crawlers, Abby. Where's the camera?"

"Why?"

"I want to take a picture of the body...what's left of it. ...and I want to take a sample of DNA."

"Why?" Abby asked.

"Just call it a hunch." He dove back out, ran to the body, processed in record time and was back in the transport in under five minutes.

"I don't think I've ever seen you move that fast, Tony," Abby said.

"I didn't want to get eaten alive by crawlers. Those things are nasty. You know...I can understand why McGee didn't like the idea of his family being put out for them. Thinking about it is really disgusting."

"That's why you don't think about it, Tony," Gibbs said. "You done?"

"Done."

"Good." He reversed the transport, turned it around and left the body for the crawlers to finish their work.

Tony focused on putting things away for a few minutes.

"Can you imagine telling someone like the young genius McGee not to think about it? It'd be like telling him _not_ to think about a big purple elephant. In order _not_ to think about it, you have to think about it first. He wouldn't have been able to avoid it."

Gibbs and Abby again said nothing.

"Poor kid," he said softly, probably not even really speaking to anyone.

No one said anything else until they got back to headquarters, although there were a few sighs of relief at the return to civilization. Gibbs parked the transport and Abby ran off to get the crawlers tested. She could do a simple comparative scan. It would take a bit of time but it didn't require the lab at Sub York.

They met up again inside.

"Tony."

"I scanned the info I collected into the database. Just got to wait to see what comes up."

"Okay. Abby?"

"Results should be done by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Gibbs nodded. "Then, you two get through Sarah McGee's stuff. If you find anything that should go to her family right away, set it aside. Box the rest of it and it can stay until the case is wrapped up." He stood and started to leave.

"Where are _you _going, Boss?"

"To find a book about a boat!" He walked out of the room.

"A what?" Tony asked. He looked at Abby. "A what?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Gibbs decided _not_ to take the transport. Instead, he climbed onto the tram and rode across the city. When he got to the appropriate stop, he went back down to ground level and started to walk. When he reached the library, he stopped short.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay here all day, Tim. I really appreciate it."

"It's open to the public. You're part of the public. As long as you don't try to burn down the library."

He watched as the woman laughed and then walked away...and he recognized her.

_Ziva David. What brings you to Tim McGee's library?_

He didn't confront her; instead, he pulled back into the shadows and then re-entered as soon as she walked around the corner. Tim had returned to the library, and Gibbs hoped that it wasn't going to close. This library, like all the book libraries, kept its own hours. They weren't posted. People who wanted to come knew when it was open. If you didn't know, and it was closed, too bad for you. Better luck next time.

Then, as he approached, he was surprised by a group of about five men who stepped out of the shadows across the square and made a beeline for the library. Gibbs watched them. They were all well-dressed, looked like upstanding members of the community...but their actions did not recommend them. There was something he didn't like about their expressions.

Casually, he walked toward the library after them. They disappeared inside and he hoped he was just miscalculating...but his gut was rarely wrong and it was telling him these guys were up to no good.

He was right. He heard the sounds of definite physical conflict as soon as he stepped in the door. The sound of falling books...and of falling bodies. The scuffle was amazingly quiet but there was definite intent to cause damage. He rounded a set of shelves to find Tim, miraculously still on his feet, two of the five on the ground. They had been fast, however, and Tim was obviously hurting.

"Hey!" he shouted...not even bothering to identify himself. They turned in surprise, which gave Tim another chance to throw a punch...and he did. A solid sock in the stomach...which was quickly retaliated with a hook to the face and Tim's head snapped back, eyes rolling up and then closing. He was flung backward against a shelf of books and then slumped to the floor.

Gibbs leapt into the fray, fresh where they were tired. A few exchanges and they grabbed their fallen comrades and ran out of the library. Quickly, Gibbs ran to the front but they were gone. Instead of going after them or reporting them, he resigned himself to locking the front door and running back to where Tim lay, unconscious on the floor.

"Hey, McGee," he said, dropping the _mister_ because it sounded weird in his mouth.

Tim groaned slightly and one eye opened.

"They gone?" he mumbled.

"Yeah."

"You lock the door?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He slumped back down. "Tell...Ducky...I'll be late." Then, he was out again.

Gibbs couldn't help it. He smiled at the unconscious figure.

"Right. If I do that, he'll probably bring down the whole world to rescue you."

He checked Tim's injuries and was satisfied that none were too serious. He should probably have his head checked out, but Gibbs had the feeling that Tim was one of those people who would rather not have his head come to the attention of the medical establishment...or _any_ establishment, particularly after what Abby had said. He went to the front desk and poked around, finding a few things that gave him cause to raise an eyebrow but also a first aid kit which is what he wanted. He ignored the others and went back. Tim was already coming around again and it only took a few minutes of Gibbs' able but none-too-gentle doctoring to bring him all the way out of his forced slumber.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as soon as his eyes opened.

Gibbs smiled. "Making sure that you didn't get any serious injury."

"How did you know I'd have _any_ injury?"

"I didn't."

"Then, why are you here?"

Gibbs sighed and helped Tim sit up. He was holding his head as if it were made of delicate glass but otherwise seemed all right. A little worse for the wear, but all right.

"What do _you_ think?"

Still rubbing at the darkening bruise on his cheek, Tim did not seem disposed to show any gratitude for Gibbs' aid. He looked suspicious, nothing more.

"Who knows. I'm going to make a wild hypothesis and say that Agent Scuito told you about our...conversation."

Gibbs only nodded.

"Then, you could be here for a number of unpleasant reasons."

"You know, McGee, not everyone is out to get you. I've just saved your ungrateful neck and you could try saying thanks."

"Why are you here?" Tim asked again.

"I had a couple of questions."

"You're not here to arrest me?"

"I have no reason to arrest you."

"It hasn't stopped you in the past."

Gibbs felt himself getting a little irritated. Tim was absolutely unrelenting in his loathing of anyone in official positions. They were all the same to him.

"Meaning?"

"Four years ago. Stephen Jacobs. Accused of sedition by a random passerby. Arrested. No trial. Whereabouts known only to the NIU."

"And to you?"

"Last year," Tim continued as if Gibbs hadn't spoken, "Lori Brethwaite. Taken up on suspicion of harboring a fugitive. No evidence. No trial. Still in lockup. Ten years ago. Execution of Jeremy Jones. Trial run by the NIU Triumvirate. He was not given counsel, nor the chance to testify in his own defense. Accused of the murder of NIU agent Chris Pacchi. Should I go on? I can."

"Not necessary. Have _I_ given you any reason to suspect that I have any intention to arrest you?"

Tim looked at him for a long moment, eyes slightly droopy. "I'm not a good judge of people's motives...or even of people in general, Agent Gibbs. I find it's safer not to trust people like you." He started to stand and stumbled. Gibbs put out a hand to steady him. "I don't need your help, Agent Gibbs."

"Dang it, McGee, all I'm trying to do is help. I expect nothing in return. Stop making me the example of everything that happens to scare you."

To Gibbs' surprise, Tim suddenly turned almost docile and he looked down at the floor, allowing Gibbs to assist him in regaining his feet.

"What do you want?" he asked, still not looking up.

"I have a couple of questions."

"What?"

Gibbs stared at the downturned face for a few seconds. He couldn't understand what had just happened, but he supposed he should be grateful that Tim was at least listening.

"Do you know if there are any books here about how to build a boat?"

Tim's head jerked up. "What?"

"I want to know how to build a boat. It's a–"

"I know what a boat is."

_Of course you do._ "Are there any books about it?"

"Why?"

"I want to try it."

"Why?"

"Is your approval required to look at a book?"

"No." Tim's head dropped again, this time with a purpose. He bent over and began picking up the books that had been knocked to the floor. He wobbled again...and again, Gibbs steadied him. He felt Tim's arm tense at the contact but other than that, Tim didn't protest.

"Let me help you with that."

No reply to that suggestion; so Gibbs just knelt down to help.

"What's your skill level?" Tim asked after a few moments.

"Does it matter?"

"We have a few books on general carpentry, some on boat building in particular. In order to direct you to the right book, I need to know what kind of book you're looking for. Are you any good at carpentry?"

"Yeah."

"Wood is expensive." Trees only grew in special tree farms around a few cities.

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay." There was another long pause. Tim set a bunch of books onto the cart. "My dad liked woodworking in his time off." Deep breath. "I can find you a book. What's your other question?"

"How would you feel about working with us on your sister's case for a while?"

That brought his eyes back up to Gibbs. It wasn't a pleasant expression, simply because it was so empty.

"In what respect?"

"The wristbands shorted out for about an hour last week."

"When Sarah was taken?"

"Yes."

"You think it's a related thing?"

"Yes."

"What do you need me for?"

"To get into the computers and figure out what was done to them."

Gibbs watched the ambivalence emerge and fade away.

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Has to be unofficial. You're not a member of NIU, but if it came out, we'd vouch for you...even if that means nothing to you."

"You'd vouch for me...and that would mean something to your superiors, would it?"

"Yes."

"You seem so certain," Tim said. "So sure...of the exact opposite of what I'm convinced of."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Not tonight, and I have work."

"I understand."

To his surprise, Tim smiled cynically. "I don't think you really do...but it was nice of you to pretend."

"Do you really think like that, McGee?"

"Think like what?" Tim asked. "That people are untrustworthy, that people in positions of power tend to abuse that power, that the seemingly nicest person in the world is really scum waiting to... Is that what you mean?"

"Something like that."

"Yes. I've seen too little to the contrary."

"That's why you assumed you were being arrested? Since I knew your story, I'd just up and haul you back?"

"If you were ordered to do it, wouldn't you?"

Gibbs was silent.

Tim gave a knowing smile. "Exactly. But I'm not ready to be arrested just yet."

"Yet? You will be some day?"

"Most likely. I'm almost looking forward to it...if only to see the look on people's faces. It would be fairly entertaining."

"What do you think you'll be arrested for?"

"That's for you to find out...and you'll probably be there...since you keep showing up at odd times."

Tim strode away from Gibbs, leaving him feeling a bit bemused. There was something about Tim that kept him off balance, something he was always keeping hidden, something that was just off. No wonder Tony called him creepy. Tim came back a couple of minutes later with a stack of books.

"Here's a bunch of options on boatbuilding. They're all in the 600 series; so you can find more if you want. I don't think you'll want to take all of these...you only need to find the one that works for you." He set them on a table and then sagged against it.

"Sit down, McGee. You're not going to make me think you're macho by falling over."

Tim said nothing but he did sit down, holding his head again. Gibbs flipped through the books. Whatever could be said for him, Tim knew his job. He had grabbed a wide range of skill levels. He began narrowing it down when he heard a soft voice.

"Stop it."

He looked up. Tim's face was obscured by his hands. "Stop what?"

"Stop pretending that you care. Stop acting like you're a normal human being. Stop making me believe you...that you aren't like the rest of them. Just..."

"Just what?" Gibbs set down the book he'd been holding. "Cater to your stereotype of what an NIU agent should act like? ...or what you think he _does_ act like? Sorry, McGee. I'm not going to do that. We're not all bad. We're not all corrupt. Some of us just want to do our jobs and do them well." He bent back over the books.

"I don't want to believe you."

"Why not?"

"If I believe _you_...then, I'll believe someone else...and they won't be like you. ...and my life will be over."

Gibbs chose his book and looked at the figure slumped over in the chair. He cut a rather pathetic image at the moment. Gibbs truly pitied him for the kind of life that had created this mindset, one which seemed as ingrained in him as showing no emotions was.

"Well, I'm still not going to act like you want me to act. Believe whatever you want. This is the one I want."

Tim visibly collected himself and when he met Gibbs' gaze again, there was nothing to show that he'd been feeling any sort of ambivalence about trusting the NIU.

"Just let me check it out to you. The scanner is over here." He stood, wobbled again, but balanced himself before Gibbs could help out. "You have two weeks...or you can automatically renew it in the database. If that's all, Agent Gibbs, I should probably get home...back to Ducky's place."

"I'll help you."

"That's not necessary."

"Yes, it is."

Tim sighed and walked to the lockers. He got out his bag and slung it wearily over his shoulder. They walked out together, Gibbs not quite touching Tim's arm but ready to do so should he falter.

"Aren't you worried about anything happening during the night?"

"No. I designed the security system. When no one should be getting in or out, it's easy to protect the building. It's when I have to be letting patrons in that the problems arise." He typed in a quick code as they walked by the sensors and pushed the engage button. "People are the problem."

"No faith in the human race?"

"No."

...and that was a lie, Gibbs realized suddenly. Tim was deliberately lying about that. Now, why would he bother?

"Those guys regulars?"

"No. Never seen them before. They were a bit more organized than most of the others."

"You worried?"

"No. Now, they think I have a protector. They'll think twice before coming back again."

"Why target you?"

"It's not me. It's the library. To some people, printed text is an affront. It's holding onto a meaningless past that has no relevance to the present. It's a waste of space, of time, of money...and they want it gone."

"Are you sure it's not you?"

"It's not me."

"Do they ever attack the other librarian?"

"Not while I'm around. I won't allow it."

They got on the tram and Tim staggered as it moved forward. Gibbs grabbed his arm and steadied him. Tim shook him off as soon as he could...and he refused to sit. When the tram slowed, Gibbs again balanced the injured man when he appeared ready to topple.

The lift back to the ground, then an unsteady walk to Ducky's house. The door opened and Ducky came out blinking once at Gibbs' presence and then gasping at Tim's appearance.

"Timothy, what happened?"

"Just some guys at the library."

"You must make a report of this."

Tim just shook his head, looking as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Ducky sighed in resignation. "Thank you for helping him back here, Agent Gibbs."

"He got a pretty good knock on the head, Ducky. You should check him out a bit better than I had time for."

"Yes. I will. Thank you."

"Thanks for the book, McGee." Gibbs turned and headed back toward the road.

"Let me know what you need me to do."

The voice was soft and without overt antagonism. It was as close to a thank you as he'd get, Gibbs figured. He turned and nodded and then said, "You're welcome, McGee," before heading on his way.

As he walked back to his home, he thought about Tim, about what he knew...and he was becoming more and more convinced that there was something about Tim none of them knew, none of them had ever seen. Something that he considered important enough to hide from the whole world.

Gibbs wondered if he'd ever find out what it was.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Tim overslept the next morning, an occurrence so rare that Ducky actually checked on him to make sure he wasn't dead. When the door opened, Tim cracked an eyelid and groaned, covering his head which was pounding madly.

"Timothy, are you all right?"

"No, Ducky. I'm not. Close the door before my head explodes."

The door closed and Tim sighed in relief...and then stiffened when he felt his bed sink a bit as Ducky sat down.

"Timothy, you really do need to report this to the authorities."

"No."

"Those men could have killed you...and probably would have had Agent Gibbs not been there."

"No, Ducky."

"Timothy, you are being ridiculous."

"No, I'm being logical and paranoid. Leave me alone."

"Timothy..."

"I'm not telling them, Ducky. I've lived the last ten years under the radar because I don't make waves. I'm not changing that now."

"Very well...but you are not going to work today."

"What? I have to go to work."

"You have already overslept."

"What?" Tim sat up quickly and then groaned again, holding his head.

"Yes, I know. You have not done so in...at least ten years, but that makes it all the more significant."

"I'm fine, Ducky."

"No, you're not. You suffered a nasty concussion. You are battered and bruised and you will only exhaust yourself if you insist on trying to go about your usual routine. By rights you should be resting for the rest of the week, but I know that is a hopeless case. You _will_, however, take one day. I have already called the librarian and told him that you were injured last night and would not be coming in today."

"Ducky!"

"You will _not_ be going to work. You are going to stay here and recover from your injuries. Who knows, perhaps you will be able to think about something outside of your work and your past. Breakfast will be in the oven when you're ready for it."

In a rare expression of frustration, Ducky stood and walked to the door, yanked it open and then paused. He looked back. Tim couldn't see his face, silhouetted as he was by the light in the hall. He walked back to the bed, knelt down and picked something up off the floor, placing it in Tim's hands before returning to the door.

"Maybe, without the distractions you embrace, you can try relearning how to live, Timothy," he said quietly and then shut the door behind him.

Tim looked down at the doll, at Sarah's doll. It was silly of him to have kept it, but he had...and now, he hugged it to his chest and lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers over his head.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Gibbs, I got the results of the autopsy," Abby said, her voice very grim.

"What is it, Abbs?"

"Signs of internal torture."

That brought Tony's head up. "What?"

Abby nodded slowly. "She'd been tortured...and the methods point to...someone who has access to...NIU methods."

Tony shook his head wordlessly, not in denial of the results but in rejection of the implications.

"No one else has access to those kinds of drugs, Gibbs. They're only used by the NIU...and that's what they found in the autopsy."

"We wouldn't do something like that. Why torture a college student?" Tony asked.

"You're sure it's only the NIU that uses them, Abby."

"If anyone else does, they have to be affiliated with the government somehow, Gibbs. You know how carefully they control those drugs. They don't want them getting out on the street. They don't want other people to have access to them."

"For good reason," Tony said.

"Yes, but look at what was just done!" Abby cried. "Either some of them _did_ get out...or someone in the government did this to Sarah McGee!"

"Abby, keep your voice down," Gibbs said.

"No, Gibbs! This is wrong! The more we find out, the more wrong it _is_!"

Gibbs stood up and grabbed Abby by the arms, forcing her down onto a chair. He shook her a little.

"You have to keep your voice..._down_, Abby...unless you want to get accused of being a traitor."

Abby wilted. "Maybe I am...because if this is what it looks like..."

Even Tony was now looking out for people listening in. "Shut up, Abby!"

"First, Tim and his...his _education_, then the crawlers out there...now, now..._this_!"

"What do you mean, his education?" Tony asked. "Oh...you asked him, didn't you."

Abby nodded.

"And he answered, didn't he."

Another nod.

"And you probably told Gibbs."

"Yes, she did."

"So...why am _I_ being left out of the loop, here?"

Gibbs sighed. "Okay. Both of you, my house, tonight. For now, let's just keep working. I have to make a report. I'll be back." He walked out of the room, knowing that he was leaving behind a bit of subdued chaos.

"Anything I can do, Abby?" he heard Tony ask.

The subsequent grunt told Gibbs that Abby, at least, was seeking comfort in the only way she could...by giving a hug.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim finally stirred himself to get up a couple of hours later. He hadn't slept, but he had lain under the covers, wishing that when he pulled them off it would be years earlier, back when he had really lived as Ducky wanted him to live now...but it had been so very long ago. Tim barely remembered it except as a lovely dream. It didn't actually seem real. Real life was miserable, hard, painful. It wasn't happy.

With a sigh, he got up. His head was still throbbing. He would have to give in and break his usual practice not to take anything. It wasn't that he couldn't think through the throbbing. It was that the throbbing made his thoughts throb...and it was difficult enough to deal with a brain that just couldn't stop thinking without the thoughts themselves being muddled.

He walked to the bathroom and raided Ducky's medicine cabinet before heading downstairs to force himself to eat breakfast...or lunch. The house felt empty...but it wasn't.

"Hey, Tim," Jimmy said. "How are you feeling?"

Tim shrugged and trudged past him to the kitchen.

Jimmy kept talking. "Uncle Don got asked to consult over at Mammoth U. He said he'd probably be gone most of the day...and that I'm supposed to..." He stood and followed Tim. "...keep you from leaving the house and if you tried I'm supposed to sit on you. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what he said."

Tim couldn't help but smile. He opened the oven and shook his head at what he saw there.

"I don't know why he insists on wasting so much effort making me things I won't be able to eat."

"At least, he cares enough to try."

Tim didn't turn but he nodded and pulled the plate out. He was surprised that Jimmy sat down at the table with him.

"I'm not going to make a run for it, Jimmy. You don't have to stare at me while I eat."

"I know." He said nothing else.

Tim started to eat and found that he couldn't stand the silence. He needed a distraction from his own mind...but he didn't know what to say either.

"By the way, Tim, thanks for the wristband. Ducky told me that you made it."

Tim swallowed. "It wasn't hard."

"Maybe for you. I wouldn't have been able to do it."

"Why do you need it? I didn't really ask before."

Jimmy smiled. "You didn't want to know. You were just hoping I'd go away."

Tim shrugged uncomfortably. This was one of the things about Jimmy...those uncomfortable truths.

"So...why do you need it?"

"Do you know what happened to my parents?"

"They died."

"A year ago," Jimmy said, nodding. "I'm here because I'm kind of hiding. I'm supposed to be dead."

"Oh." Tim didn't know what to say to that.

"Really, the reason I wanted to be _here _is because I want to find someone."

"Who?"

Jimmy looked unnervingly into Tim's eyes.

"My mom and dad have been...well, I figure I can trust you not to tell on me since you were willing to make me a wristband that doesn't do what it's supposed to."

"I won't tell anyone."

"Have you ever heard of an author by the name of Thom the Gem?"

Tim choked on his mouthful and cough a few times. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear from Jimmy of all people.

"Yeah...who hasn't, really."

"True. Well, about eight years ago, my mom and dad got this...it wasn't a book. It was more of a pamphlet attached to their morning news headlines. They figured it was something elaborating on one of the news items; so they opened it. It wasn't news. It was called..._The Story of the Descent: A Dissenting View_." He laughed. "They thought the title was clever and it was something they'd been thinking about themselves for a while. So they read it...and it made a lot of sense to them. In fact, they gave it to me to read as well."

"Really?"

"Well, it wasn't illegal at the time. This must have been one of his first works...you know, before the powers that be realized what he was doing, what he was saying. Besides, my parents had always been big on making me think for myself. They didn't let me go to a regular school because they said I'd only have my mind turned off. Instead, I was taught by my mom, Uncle Don's sister, and we went from there. I was trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life and this was something they figured might help. I'm not sure why, but my parents were like that."

"And?"

"And he had some good points. My mom had gone and tried to verify what he said. The things that she could verify were right and the things she couldn't made sense. So, they began to watch out for what else he might write. Silly pen name notwithstanding, Thom seemed to know what he was talking about."

"What does this have to do with your wristband? You're not Thom, are you?"

Jimmy laughed. "No. Not me." His smiled faded quickly. "It has everything to do with it. We moved to one of the seafloor colonies a couple of years ago. I'd been officially apprenticed to my dad so that no one would ask questions about why someone like me was still living with his parents. My parents, after reading every single thing this Thom wrote, decided that it was time to take look for themselves."

"Take a...a look?"

"At the surface," Jimmy said bluntly. "That's why we moved to the Atlantic colony."

"Why?"

"Because, the way my parents thought of it anyway, there are only so many tunnels in the rock and those are easily guarded, but the ocean is just there...open all the way up. There's a better chance of evading people in the ocean."

Tim nodded. "True...I guess."

"That was about my reaction, too. I mean, I believed that Thom was telling the truth as far as he knew it...but it didn't seem as though he was saying for everyone to go out and make a break for it."

Tim didn't say a word. He was waiting for the meaning of what Jimmy had begun saying.

"It was just a year ago. Dad had got hold of a float and was modifying it to go straight up instead of coasting along the ocean floor. I was holding down the fort and they went out together." Jimmy looked down at the table. "They made it about halfway...and they were shot down."

"Sh-Shot down?" Tim asked, suddenly horrified.

"Yeah. Nothing was left, not even bodies to bury...just some wreckage. After that, well, you probably have an idea of what the NIU is like in situations like this. Find anyone else involved and cart them away. Some of my parents' friends were in the colony, too. They took off my wristband and destroyed it, adding it to the wreckage. So...I was marked down as dead, but they couldn't chance me being found. I moved around from one friend to another for a few months, but the colony just isn't big enough. Sooner or later, someone would have seen me, no matter how careful we all were."

"So...they called Ducky for help."

"Yeah. It was weird coming here, you know. I hadn't seen Uncle Don in years. Mom and he didn't get along very well. And I'd got used to the ocean. I didn't really like it here...all this rock...and...well, I still have to hide. I don't know how long it will take for me to be able to walk around without worrying about being found."

"Wow." Tim looked down at his plate and was surprised to see that it was empty. He had just kept eating while Jimmy talked...for a lack of anything else to do. "I kind of feel like a jerk."

"Not really, though, huh."

Tim shrugged.

"The thing is..." Jimmy said, not pursuing it. "...as much as I am kind of angry about the way my parents died, there's something I need to know."

"What?"

"I want to find Thom the Gem and I want to ask him some questions."

"What questions?" Tim asked, looking up...almost afraid of what they would be.

"I want to ask him what this all means to him."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents died because they believed in what he was saying, because they agreed that he was right about all the oppression we face down here. They were _willing_ to sacrifice their lives for that...for _his_ cause. They made it theirs. So...I want to know if this is just a game to him for him to get notoriety or is _he_ willing to die for the things he's said."

"What do you think?"

"He seems to mean it...based on what he says. This seems important, but they're just words. How can you tell someone's real thoughts when all you have are printed words? I wonder if he knows just how influential he is to some people. When you have that much power over someone, you have to be aware of how it could be used."

Tim couldn't think of anything to say. He had been struck by the questions...and by the realization that what _he_ had written had led to the deaths of Jimmy's parents...of Ducky's sister and her husband. His words had done that.

"Tim? You all right?"

Tim blinked and realized that he'd zoned out. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine. So...do you hate him?"

"Hate him? For what?"

"Your parents wouldn't be dead if..."

Jimmy shook his head. "Would they be any better off living without knowing the truth...as much as we can know it? No...I'll hate him if it turns out that he doesn't care about the effect of his books, if all he's doing is trying to stir things up, not make them better. Then, I'll hate him."

"Any luck finding him?"

"No. You know, the NIU has its own task force assigned to finding him. If they can't make any headway, what chance do I have? I'm not really good with computers beyond just using them every day. If anyone could find him, it would probably be you, Tim."

Tim forced himself to smile along with Jimmy but his heart had never been less in forming the expression.

"Well, I'm not likely to either."

"You think I'm stupid for wanting to ask, huh. The most wanted person in the world and I just want to ask a question. It's like he's a movie star or something."

"No. I think those are very good questions. Anyone in power should have to answer them."

"Thanks, Tim...and I'll be happy to report to Ducky that you cleaned your plate," he said, grinning.

"I've never done it before. It's a momentous occasion," Tim said, feeling as though he was going to burst...but not with food, although his meal was sitting like lead in his stomach. "Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind looking the other way while I leave the house?"

Jimmy furrowed his brow. "Why would you leave?"

"I'm not going to work. I just have some things I need to do. Please?"

"Okay. Sure. I'll tell him you weren't comfortable to sit on."

"Thanks."

Tim couldn't get away fast enough. Headache or not. Aching or not...he had to leave, had to get away from the damning presence of someone orphaned by the words he had written. He couldn't get away from the questions Jimmy had asked. How fitting that the person he wanted to ask had heard them...but Tim ached inside from the questions. He ached knowing the story of how Jimmy had come here...and he ached knowing it was due to him. Even if Jimmy had excused him, he couldn't excuse himself. He couldn't pretend that it meant nothing to him. He needed to think about what that meant to how he proceeded in the future...but he couldn't think of it right now.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the NIU headquarters, staring up at the forbidding structure for a few seconds before walking in.

"Yes? How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Agent Gibbs." He hated this building. How he hated this building and everyone in it. It was easier to hate them all than to try and figure out which ones he could trust.

"Is he expecting you?"

"No."

"Have a seat please."

"I'd rather stand."

"All right. Just wait a moment."

Tim walked away from the counter and began pacing. He needed to be doing something that would take his mind off the idea that he was indirectly a murderer, that he might be as bad as the people who had actually killed Jimmy's parents. He had to stop thinking about it...but he couldn't while he had nothing else to do. That relentless throbbing in his brain kept bringing up images of Jimmy's parents...even though Tim hadn't the slightest idea of what they looked like. He kept seeing them being blown to bits, dissolving into nothing molecule by molecule.

"McGee?"

Tim spun around to find Gibbs standing there, looking at him with concern.

"What are you doing here?"

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but then Gibbs grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the lobby.

"Wait until we're in the office," he muttered.

Tim's mind was still buzzing with thoughts of death and murder. He didn't answer, barely even noticed when Gibbs let him go. He hardly noticed the presence of Tony and Abby in the room.

"What is it that you want, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim stared at him for a long moment, just breathing.

"Are you all right, Tim?" Abby asked.

"You..." Tim began, couldn't continue...and had to breathe for a while. "You said you needed my help. Please...please, let me help."

"Are you sure you're up to it, McGee?" Tony asked. "You're looking a bit..." He didn't finish.

Tim didn't notice. He was only looking at Gibbs, just trying to focus on keeping himself from acting like a total lunatic...not realizing that his efforts weren't helping.

"McGee, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just want to...to help. Now."

Gibbs, not looking away, nodded. "Abby," he said, "get a computer set up for McGee."

"Okay, Gibbs," she said softly. Tim just stood there, not moving, waiting for the chance to think about something that could easily consume his every thought, could keep him from breaking beneath the mental onslaught, that throbbing insistence that he was responsible for the deaths of Jimmy's parents.

"Ready," she said after unknown minutes. She walked over and Tim vaguely noticed her hand on his arm, directing him to the terminal she'd set up for him. "Right here, Tim."

Tim sat down and looked at the code. It was dense, difficult, almost impossible to read, still more difficult to understand. It was just what he needed. He felt his synapses surging into motion as habits formed over long years with painful reinforcement began to resurface and take over his mind. He would find it. He would find that one line of code that would be able to shut down the system for long enough for people to take his sister and then kill her.

...and he wouldn't have to think about anything else, not for hours.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Ziva mentally crossed another name off her list. These people at the library just weren't panning out. She'd probably have more luck finding suspicious people at Tim's club rather than at his library. They were the wrong kind of people at the library, although she'd certainly found books that were of a suspicious nature.

The old librarian would have been a choice but he was _too_ old for this, not because he wasn't smart enough for it. He played a senile old man, but he was sharp as a tack. He had noticed the moment she had seen through his game and had smiled at her...but Ziva just didn't get that vibe from him. Tim hadn't been at the library and she had asked him about it. Rather than when he spoke to most of the patrons (too loudly and after many repetitions), he had answered her right away in the right volume.

She sighed. This task was beginning to seem nearly insurmountable. She would _not_ fail. She would search and search until she found him. That was her job. So...so...why did she almost _want_ to fail?

Turning back to her hotel room, she thought it through. She wasn't used to feeling conflicted about her assignments. The people she went after, the people she took out were people who broke the law, who needed to be taken care of...quietly without fuss. Thom the Gem should be no different.

...but he was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You mean he left?" Ducky asked.

Jimmy nodded. "He was acting kind of weird, Uncle Don."

"Weird?" Ducky found it strange that _Jimmy _was describing _Tim_ as weird. Pot calling the kettle black if there ever was an instance of it.

"Yeah. We were talking. He asked me about my parents and I was talking to him about it, and then, suddenly, he just stopped."

"Stopped talking?"

Jimmy shook his head. "No. It was like he stopped...his whole...everything. He almost wasn't breathing. It was weird. Then, he started again and...and told me he had to go, had some things to do."

"He probably went to the library."

"No. He said he wasn't going to work."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Should I have really sat on him, Uncle Don?"

Ducky laughed. "No, lad. I don't think that would have helped. I suppose I shall just have to trust him, although I wish I knew where he was."

"Uncle Don?"

"Yes, lad?"

Jimmy hesitated.

"What is it?" Ducky asked, looking at him directly.

"Do you think I should leave?"

"Leave? Why would you think that?"

"I was just thinking today...I told Tim that people should think about the effect what they do has on other people. I could get you in big trouble, just by being here."

Ducky shook his head firmly. "No, Jimmy. You are no danger to me...and even if you were, you are _family_ and I do not abandon my family, not for anything. Understand?"

"Yes...I understand."

"Good. Now, is it too much to expect that you would have made dinner in my absence?"

Jimmy smiled. "You probably don't _want_ me to have made dinner."

"True enough. Let's see what we have shall we?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Boss...he hasn't looked away from the screen, not once since he sat down. It's been _hours_," Tony said, staring worriedly at Tim who was still looking through the lines of code. Abby had been trying to follow what he was doing, but he was moving too quickly.

"If you use the word 'creepy' or 'weird' to refer to him again, Tony, I'll slap you silly," Abby said.

"I was going to ask if I should be worried," Tony said. "This...this can't be healthy."

"It's what he's used to doing," Abby said softly.

Gibbs sat down beside Tim, not bothering to look at the monitor. He wouldn't have a clue what was going on anyway.

"McGee, why don't you take a break?"

No response.

"McGee?"

Nothing. Tim kept working. No sign that he'd even _heard_ anything. Abby sat on the other side and looked at Gibbs, biting her lip anxiously.

"Tim? You don't have to do it all today."

Gibbs reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"McGee."

To his surprise, Tim heard him that time...it wasn't any less worrying but at least he showed an awareness of the outside world. "These people. They don't know how to conduct searches." His voice was low, too fast. "It's not enough to look on the day it happened. People who do something like this...they plan well ahead. They put it in days, maybe even weeks ahead of when they want to use it. It's not enough to look at the actual execution. You have to go back to when it started...when they first wanted to do it. That's the moment that will leave a clue, leave a trace. That's where–"

"McGee," Gibbs said again, tightening his grip on Tim's shoulder. "You need to take a break."

Tim definitely heard him this time. "I don't need a break. I have to finish it on time."

"There's no _on time_, McGee. We just work when we can and finish it when we can."

"I can finish it on time. I promise."

Abby's eyes filled with tears and she couldn't even find her voice to say anything.

"No. You need to stop, McGee."

"Please, Tim. Please, stop," Abby begged.

Tim stopped. He went from ceaseless movements to absolute stillness. He stared at the computer screen without even blinking.

"Come on, McGee, take a break," Gibbs said again. He pulled gently on Tim's shoulder, urging him away from the monitor and back to reality.

Tim took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his mouth. He typed in a brief flurry of activity and then turned abruptly away from the computer to the room at large. He looked around at them all, not saying anything, not really meeting their eyes.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said awkwardly. "We have some of Sarah's stuff here. You want to take it with you when you go?"

Tim stared at him for a long time, almost as if he was remembering how to respond and then he nodded slowly.

"Yes. What do you have?" Where he had been speaking quickly before, now he was slow, almost robotic.

"Well, we have most of her personal possessions. You can have them all when we close the case, but there's quite a bit of it that we don't need."

"Like what?"

"Her personal documents, holographs, clothes."

"I won't need her clothes," Tim said.

"Well, I'm sure they wouldn't fit you."

Tim's lips smiled but the rest of his face remained immobile.

"No, they wouldn't. I can donate them, though can't I?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Why don't you go home, McGee? We can pick it up again tomorrow."

"I have to work tomorrow."

"That's all right. No rush," Abby said.

"Here, I'll give you a lift back to Ducky's place," Tony said. "It'll be a real hassle carrying this stuff on the tram."

"Okay," Tim said. He stood up to follow Tony and then stopped and looked back at Gibbs who was still sitting beside the now-dark monitor. "I'm sorry I didn't get it done today."

"It's all right, McGee. Don't apologize."

Tim just turned around and walked out. Gibbs watched him go feeling more than a little worried. Abby let out a sob and moved over to him so that she could hug him tightly.

"Oh, that was...awful. I never want to see someone like that again, Gibbs. I never want to see Tim like that again. Is that what makes better people, a better world? Taking a human being and turning him into that?"

Gibbs hugged her close, not revealing how much he himself needed the close contact.

"You need to tell Ducky about this, Gibbs," Abby said. "He'll be able to help. Tim trusts him."

Gibbs nodded and spared a hand to dial in the code for Ducky's home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony hauled all the clothes by himself, not even suggesting that Tim help. He was walking as if in a dream, looking around without speaking. He seemed almost lost, confused by his surroundings.

"Here we are, McGee."

Tim nodded and got into the transport while Tony shoved the boxes in the back. Then, he got in and started driving it toward Ducky's place, grateful for the tracking system that made it so he didn't have to depend on Tim to tell him where to go.

"That was some pretty amazing stuff you were doing in there, McGee."

Tim didn't respond.

"I mean, I can work a computer, but that was way beyond working with a computer. It was pretty...scary actually."

Tim nodded. "It is scary," he whispered. "I'm never sure if I'll be able to stop before the job is done. They wouldn't ever let me."

"Who they?"

"Did she suffer?" Tim asked, staring out the window.

"Who?"

"Sarah. Did she suffer?"

Tony thought of the garrotte line on her neck, of the drug results Abby had received. ...and he thought of what Tim would do if he knew the details...and he also thought of what Tim would do if Tony lied and then Tim found out the truth.

"Yeah, she did, McGee." He was silent for a long time.

"So...when she died, do you think she was glad she did?"

Tony had never met a grieving family member like Tim. If he didn't know any better, he would have suspected that Tim was asking because he'd done it...but somehow, there was no question of that in this case. Tim was asking for some unfathomable reason of his own.

"Probably. She was probably relieved."

Tim nodded slowly. "Who are you, Agent DiNozzo?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not just Agent DiNozzo. You're someone else. Who are you?"

"I don't understand."

"I'm the librarian...but I'm so much more than that...and I wish I was so much less."

"I like movies...and I tend to go out on a lot of first dates...not so many second dates. Is that what you mean?"

"I don't know. It's like being in another world, a world of symbols, numbers...no people, no feelings...just a problem needing a solution. It's so much easier...and so much worse. Positive and negative...bits of information."

Tony couldn't think of anything to say to that, and he was very glad to see Ducky's house coming up.

"Here we are."

"Yes."

The transport came to a halt and Tim got out. Ducky was already there, sitting on the stoop. To Tony's surprise, he didn't spring up and grab Tim. He just waited for him to come close.

"Go inside, Timothy."

Tim did without speaking.

"Thank you for bringing him back, Agent DiNozzo. I doubt if he would have made it in his current state."

"Is he...okay?"

Ducky shook his head. "If that boy is _ever_ really okay in his life, it will be a miracle. Physically, he is fine and he will be back to normal by tomorrow. I have seen this on occasion before. It is not a permanent state."

"Aren't you mad at us?"

"No. You did nothing but ask for help. Timothy gave it...probably for reasons of his own. I can't be angry at you for wanting help with a difficult problem."

"I have a bunch of Sarah's clothes and things."

"Oh, yes. Agent Gibbs told me that you would come laden with her personal items. Allow me to help you bring them in."

Together, the shift from transport to house was easy. Tony lingered at the door, however, looking toward the living room where Tim sat motionless, blinking slowly.

"What could make him like this, Ducky?"

"I would tell you to cherish your ignorance on that subject, but you don't have the look of someone who would accept being ignorant once he knew he was."

Tony smiled a little and shrugged.

"The full tale would take much too long to tell. Suffice it to say that it took years of torture to get him like this, and I'm not sure how many years of kindness it will take to heal what is broken in him. I can only hope it is possible."

"I think he's lucky to have you, Ducky," Tony said.

"We are both lucky, Agent DiNozzo."

"Yeah. I guess." Tony gave Tim one last look and then walked back to the transport. He checked his messages, figuring he'd have one from Gibbs. He was right. Instead of going back to Headquarters and then home, he went back, parked the transport and then headed to Gibbs' place.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked back inside and closed the door. He looked at Tim with anxiety and a touch of resignation. Tim would come out of this on his own, he knew. It would take time, but he'd do it. However, watching him struggle back to reality was painful and it was so simple to guide him instead. He sat down beside Tim on the couch.

"Okay, my lad, let's see if we can make you focus on the world rather than the computer, shall we?"

No response.

"What do you see, Timothy?"

Tim's eyes were darting back and forth. "So many lines. It's hard to..."

"No, lad. You are not looking at the computer screen. You are not at a terminal. You are sitting in my living room. What do you see? Focus, now."

Tim's breathing became slightly faster and his eyes closed.

"No, lad. Keep them open. See the world, not the symbols."

His eyes opened again. He trembled slightly with the effort. He had expended quite a bit just to interact with the NIU agents. He must have, Ducky knew, if they hadn't noticed that he was still actually doing the work on the computer, only without the computer there. Tim didn't need the physical presence to run programming, to write lines of code. He did it all in his head and keeping that from taking over his entire brain was hard to do.

"Come on, Timothy. You know what you see. It is _not_ the numbers or the codes or the program. What is it?"

Tim blinked furiously and reached out a hand toward the empty air.

"It's not there."

"No. It's not."

"I can see...your tacky knickknacks."

"They're not tacky! They're heirlooms!"

Tim blinked a few more times and then sagged back against the couch with relief, even allowing a small smile to grace his lips.

"Heirlooms? I'm glad you have Jimmy to leave them to."

Ducky smiled gently. "Well done, Timothy. That was much faster than you have been in the past. Now, would you like to tell me why you allowed yourself to fall into that state? You must have known what would happen when you went to the NIU."

"No."

"No, you didn't know?"

Tim shook his head. "No, I would not like to tell you. I can't. Tell you one thing, I have to tell you others that I can't tell you."

Ducky sighed. "I wish I could say that I understand, lad, but I don't. I truly don't."

"I know you don't. Maybe someday you will. I'm tired. My brain is throbbing." He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.

"Eat dinner and then go to bed."

"Not hungry."

Ducky wondered if Tim realized how much like a sulky teenager he sounded sometimes. "Doesn't matter. Did you eat at all from the time you left this house, against my strict orders, to when you returned?"

"I doubt it."

"Then, you need to eat now. I know you'll insist on going to work tomorrow. You will have to deal with eating a square meal if you wish to have the energy to tolerate it. Oh, Timothy..."

Tim sat up. "I needed to stop thinking, Ducky. That's why I went. I knew what would happen...and that's what I wanted. There's no room for any other thoughts in my head when I do those kinds of things."

"And what you didn't want to think about is what I can't know?"

Tim nodded.

"Very well. May I suggest that you find some other way that you can occupy your thoughts than ceding control of your brain to a machine?"

Tim smiled a little and got to his rather unsteady feet. Ducky stood up as well and put a supporting arm around his waist.

"Ducky?" Tim asked as they headed for the kitchen.

"Yes, Timothy?"

"What would it be like to be normal?"

Ducky felt his heart twist. Such a thing, as nebulous as the definition was, was as far out of Tim's reach as the surface of the earth.

"I wish I could tell you. I can no more fathom your life than you can fathom mine."

There was nothing more to say.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, I'm here," Tony announced as he sauntered down the steps.

"Did you lock the door?" Gibbs asked.

"You _never_ lock your door. How do you think I got in?"

"Lock the door."

Tony rolled his eyes and climbed back to the main floor. When he returned, his eyes were drawn to the wooden skeleton in the middle of Gibbs' basement.

"What's that?"

"That's a boat...or it will be."

"And what does it do...besides loom unpleasantly?"

Abby laughed. "It floats on water, Tony."

"What good is that? The rivers don't have clearance for people's heads most of the time, let alone a monstrosity like this."

"I want to see if I can build it. That's the only reason."

"Okay. Your choice." Tony's lack of comment on that choice was eloquence itself.

"No more jokes, Tony," Abby said.

"Fine. You want to tell me what it is that happened to McGee when he was a kid to turn him into some kind human interface? Ducky said he was tortured, but he didn't say why."

Abby shuddered and turned away.

"Come on, guys. How can I help with whatever is going on if I don't have all the information?"

"You tell him, Gibbs. I can't," Abby said. "Once was bad enough."

Tony settled down and looked at Gibbs silently.

"All right."

Tony listened to Gibbs' terse explanation of Tim's education, the methods used to train him, to make him into some sort of wunderkind. Gibbs didn't go in for elaborate explanations but his brevity made it all too easy to imagine just what he _wasn't_ saying and Tony was ill at the thought. When Gibbs got to the supposed suicide attempt, Tony finally understood why Abby was so disturbed, had been so un-Abby-like the last couple of days. Knowing that, knowing what had been done by their government, by their _employers_ ultimately, it was sickening.

"So...why are we meeting in your basement?"

"Because I'm becoming convinced that someone in the government has something to do with Sarah McGee's murder."

"The Hegemony?" Abby asked, breaking her silence. She hadn't said a word during Gibbs' description of Tim's life.

"No," Tony scoffed.

"Why not?" Abby asked.

"Because why would the Hegemony be involved in the murder of a college student from Carlsbad? We've found _nothing_ to indicate Sarah McGee was involved in anything beyond maybe some wild parties."

"But the drugs found in Sarah's system could only be used by someone in the government."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean the Hegemony is involved. It could just as easily be some person within the NIU working by him...or _her_self."

"That would make you feel better, would it?" Abby challenged.

"No, it wouldn't, actually," Tony said. "When was the last time _you_ ever heard of an NIU agent being taken up on charges?"

Abby fell silent.

"Boss?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Never to my knowledge."

"I find it hard to believe that the NIU doesn't get a few troublemakers in the ranks, but no one gets punished for it. Are we really going to be taking on the NIU for this?"

"We might be," Gibbs said. "You ready for that?"

"What can we really do, Boss?"

"Go directly to the Triumvirate with what we find."

"You think that will help?"

"If anything will."

"What if they're involved?" Abby asked.

"They won't be."

"How do you know?"

"Because unsolved murders make them look bad and when I reported to them before, they were bothered by it. That's the best we can do. It's either that or let someone get away with murder."

"We can't do that!" Abby exclaimed.

Tony sighed. "I know. Can you imagine McGee's face if we told him we were backing off?"

"Okay, so what do we have that points to someone in authority?"

"The drugs," Abby said promptly.

"Can we find a reason to think that they were obtained by someone outside?"

Abby shook her head. "It's never happened before. You know we would have heard about it even if no one in the public knew."

"Okay. What else?"

"The wristbands," Tony said. "I could accept that maybe they were tampered with by someone who knew what they were doing, but if McGee was right in his mumblings, they would have had to get in days before the actual short circuit happened. That means that it was missed by the entire global team."

"They would have had to miss it anyway. I doubt they all would have been in on it," Gibbs said.

"True, but the way McGee talked about it...someone like _him_ would be needed to take this on. Since he's not involved, then it has to be someone else with his level of skills. I don't know about you, but I don't think there are too many geniuses running around out there, and based on McGee's experience, I'd say they're probably all working for the government or in research."

"Then, there's the fact that she was transported across the country," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "I can't imagine them using the tram. They would have needed something else. A transport would have been best for them."

"Exactly. And no one gets transports except cargo and government employees."

"Besides that," Abby said, "all of them together points to someone with power. One or the other, maybe, but all of them? That's a heck of a coincidence...and I know how you feel about coincidences."

Gibbs smiled.

"So...again, what are we going to do about it?"

"We have to keep investigating like usual."

"What if someone suspects?"

"Then we go to Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Abby asked.

"I'll let you know...when I think of it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Paula Cassidy hated her job. No, she took that back. It wasn't her job itself. It was the place to which she'd been transferred. Two years ago, she'd been taken from her interesting job as an NIU Agent and put on the task force set up to find Thom the Gem. That, in and of itself wasn't _too_ bad, although she definitely missed being a part of regular investigations. No, the problem was the person _leading_ the task force.

"He's coming," Cassie Yates, her partner, whispered.

Paula quickly turned her mind back to work. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that her supervisor could read minds.

"Good morning, Agent Cassidy."

"Good morning, Agent Kort."

"How many people have we eliminated so far this week?"

"Fifty."

"Good. Good." He walked away.

"Is it just me or does he seem a bit buoyant today?" Cassie asked in a low voice.

"Trent Kort? Buoyant? Are you crazy?"

"Not enough to say it loudly."

Paula looked after him. He moved like a cat, silent and disturbing. One never knew just what he was thinking, but she was beginning to agree. He seemed like he was ready to celebrate about _something_. Just what that might be was beyond her comprehension, but regardless, he did seem different today.

"Maybe he's found something."

"You'd think he'd tell us if he had so we could stop this tedious person-by-person elimination. Couldn't the computers do this?"

"Ah," Cassie said in sepulchral tones, "Thom the Gem, like the jewels hidden in the earth, can turn up when least expected. He may pop up in our computer searches and ding us all."

Paula smothered a laugh. "You know, I think that Kort would be in that CIA place Thom mentioned in the article on the origins of the NIU. He's creepy enough for it."

"Sh. He's coming back."

The two women focused on their searches once more. Kort said nothing this time, but that strange energy continued. It was as if he was waiting in anticipation of something.

Personally, Paula hoped he got it soon. Then, she could go back to her real job and wouldn't have to work with him anymore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat back and sighed, rubbing at his head. It was still aching and he was still wound up by Jimmy's revelation, even if he'd had no idea of how disturbing his tale had been. It was hard to focus on _anything_ because his mind kept returning resolutely to the fact that Jimmy's parents had been killed because they had believed what he had written.

"Wow, Tim, you look horrible."

Tim blinked and looked up to find Ziva standing beside him, looking dutifully concerned. He wondered if she_ actually_ felt bad for him or if this was all an act.

"Thank you, Ziva."

She had the grace to flush briefly. "I meant only that your face is bruised. This is why you missed coming here yesterday?"

"Enforced relaxation time."

"Perhaps you should have taken more. You do not look recovered."

"I'm enough. I'll make an early night of it. I'm singing tomorrow night."

"I am excited to hear you."

Tim squinted at her. It was too easy to forget that she was NIU, that she was looking for _him_. He didn't like that. It was as though his brain didn't care about reality and was instead focusing on the connection from before he knew what she was.

"Why?"

"I think it will be an experience."

Tim let out a surprised chuckle. "It will be that. Good or bad, I won't say."

She laughed as well.

"Have you found what you're looking for?" he asked.

"No. Not yet."

"Any luck at all?"

"None. I almost hope that my assignment is simply withdrawn."

"Almost?"

"I have not ever been pulled off an assignment. It would be...embarrassing."

"What is it that you do?"

She visibly hesitated.

"I understand if you don't want me to know."

"I...Well, it is just that people do not usually care much for me when they know my occupation."

"Which is?" Tim waited for her to lie.

"I am a member of the Mossad division of the NIU."

Tim's surprise was at her honesty, although she obviously took it for surprise at her occupation.

"Yes, I am sorry. I did not wish to lie to you, but it was interesting talking to someone who was not afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid you now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Why not?"

"Should I be?"

"Well, I guess not."

"Why are you here? Mossad doesn't operate in the SS."

"Not officially, as I said."

"So...what are you doing here?"

"That I cannot tell you. I am looking for someone but do not ask me who."

"And you said before that you've never failed."

"Never. I will not fail this time either. I will find him."

"Whoever he is, I'm guessing he should be worried about that."

"Yes." She said it, but she didn't look very happy about it. "Actually, I should go and continue my search."

"Good luck," Tim said, at the same time wondering why he was wishing her luck when he was almost totally positive that she was looking for him.

"Thank you. I think I will need it."

She left and Tim waited for a few seconds before smiling.

"You _will_ need it," he said softly.

A creak drew his attention and the old librarian ambled past, pushing his cart.

"Your girlfriend is a keeper, Tim," he said with a grin.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"She's sure hanging around a lot."

"How would you know?"

"She asked about you yesterday."

Tim shifted uncomfortably. It sometimes seemed to him that the librarian wasn't as old as he acted.

"You okay?" he asked, changing subjects with typical alacrity.

"Yeah."

"I really appreciate your work, Tim. I'm glad to have you."

"Thanks."

"Just be careful," he said and moved on, leaving Tim watching him, wondering if there was a double warning in that.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Once upon on a time... how many of our children's stories begin this way? Once upon a time... It presents the idea that it happened a long time ago, perhaps in a different world. Well, I'm going to tell you a story. It began in a different world, and it ends in this one. It is not a children's tale. It does not have a happy ending. No "and they lived happily ever after" at the end. It is a dark tale and leads to our current dwelling, hiding in caves, cowering in tunnels deep within the earth. That is the essence of this tale. Let me begin it properly._

_Once upon a time, there was a war. It began between two small nations. The nations no longer exist. These two nations had been fighting for so many years that no one remembers how the fight got started. Each blamed the other. They started with words...flung back and forth at each other through the medium of diplomats and ambassadors. The words became minor skirmishes along the borders. The skirmishes grew to involve villages._

_Other nations tried to stop them. Other nations, older, wiser, more experienced in the devastation which can be wrought by a fight between two. They tried to mediate, tried to find common ground, tried to appeal for a wider perspective._

_They failed. Instead of avoiding the war, these larger, more powerful nations became involved in it. They were naturally more sympathetic to one side or the other. The skirmishes became battles. War was declared._

_At this time, there were a few, not many, who could see the inevitable trend and they began to prepare. Quietly. Secretly. These people, scattered across the globe, began to investigate the possibility of moving a segment of the population temporarily into caverns beneath the surface to save the human race should the war become too large to contain._

_The war continued. It was like a starving monster, a crawler, small but insatiable. It devoured the senses of those in power. The larger nations, pulled ever closer, like a moth to the flame, began trading words. After some years, they began trading bombs. The bombs grew larger...more destructive, more deadly. More dangerous._

_Then, the first nuclear weapon was launched by one of the original combatants. No one had known they possessed nuclear capability, but they did...and they used it to destroy one of their enemy's cities. Thousands died. Thousands more were injured, displaced. Retaliation followed as it inevitably does. Another nuclear missile._

_This woke up some of the more sober-minded. They began to plead for an end...but once the missiles began, they couldn't be stopped by a few voices. Those who had prepared for this day sent around a quiet message that, even as the missiles were getting larger, more destructive, a small segment of the population could be saved. Not all. Not even most, but some. Natural caverns had been secretly expanded, added to, developed into homes. Machines had been set up to purify the air, give artificial sunlight, grow crops, trees. Animals had been moved down into these caverns and it was found that with proper care, they could live in the environment._

_To escape the ultimate destruction of the human race, a few were chosen to survive. There was no public announcement, no lottery. No. In the eyes of the ones in power, this would only result in mass panic, riots and the end of the one avenue of survival._

_Then, one of the nuclear missiles being traded between the two countries was sent, not at each other, but at one of the more vocal opponents. It took them completely by surprise. An entire city was destroyed. Nuclear fallout irradiated the land for miles around._

_They retaliated, even as small numbers were being moved into the caverns._

_Throughout the world, small segments of the population were being saved by these people who had seen the inevitable. They felt it would be only temporary. The coming nuclear winter could not last forever. They need only survive it...and find a way to clean up what had been destroyed. They made plans. They put them in place...and as the number of nations launching these devastating weapons grew, they chose to seal the tunnels, setting themselves up as the leaders until they could return to the surface and reclaim the land their countries had destroyed._

_The last communication they had from the surface was a video, one that is often shown in classrooms to demonstrate how horrible life is on the surface. It was a video combining satellite imagery and ground-based cameras. Global destruction. A cloud of radiation, raining fallout around the world. Total ruin. We had destroyed ourselves. ...and it had begun with a war of words between two nations who did not matter._

_That is the story. That is the end...for we have not completed the plan put in place by our ancestors. We have never returned to the surface. We think that, somehow, by staying here we are avoiding the kind of base humanity that led to our being sent down in the first place. Somehow, living miles below the surface is supposed to make us into better human beings. It is supposed to crush our inherent evil and nurture the good within us._

_Something is being crushed, but it is not evil. Evil thrives on darkness, on silence, on secrets. Our glorious leaders are keeping secrets. Secrets that could lead back to the surface...but they know, as I do, that a return to the surface would mean a break in their power. Forcing everyone to work together under threat of imminent death was needed in the beginning when panic threatened to destroy all. Now, the threat of imminent death remains...only it comes from those who should be protecting us. It comes from our own glorious leaders._

_That is the story. That is the tale in a nutshell. This is a book about a dissenting view. This is a story about what we really deserve, who we really are._

_You may ask who I am. I am the author. I have seen with my own eyes information that tells me we should be allowed to leave. I am the author who wishes to tell you that there is more danger in staying here than in leaving. I am the author who wants to open your eyes to the fact that you are all prisoners, even if you can't see the prison._

_I want to show you the bars, the limits. I want to show you the world as it really is. _

_That is the story contained within these pages._

Ziva sat back and sighed, rubbing her eyes as she contemplated the words from Thom the Gem's first book. He told the whole story in a couple of pages and then spent the rest of the time explaining his story. He knew what to do. He knew how little most people would read. He had to hook them in the first page...and he succeeded.

Who could write like this? Who could understand human nature so well that he could attract followers just by writing books?There were authors who could write wonderful words, but Thom was in a league of his own. No one she knew could do what he did. He made her question everything she knew...or thought she knew.

The more she read Thom's words, the more she felt that this was not a man who deserved to die. Without quite admitting it to herself, Ziva began to think of ways to capture him without killing him. It was ridiculous because she could see in her own reaction just how dangerous Thom was.

He was making her believe him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Paula and Cassie decided to take their break together and grabbed lunch from the cafeteria. Rather than eat there, they took their meals up to one of the unused conference rooms on the task force floor. They chatted there and then were getting ready to go when they heard voices.

"You want to try explaining to me why you got me to do it?"

"Patience. All will be revealed in time."

Cassie rolled her eyes and whispered, "I wish Kort could hear how inane he sounds sometimes."

Paula started to laugh but stopped abruptly at the worried man's next words.

"I killed a girl, Kort! I tortured her for information she didn't have. I gotta know why you thought that was necessary."

"When you have the prey in sight, you don't let everyone know you can see it. You have to sneak up quietly."

"If you suspect him, why don't you just arrest him?"

Cassie's eyes were wide. They both knew they shouldn't be hearing this.

"You can't arrest people like him. He's too well-known. If you do, he gets a forum to gain sympathy. A quiet murder would be best but even that has too many risks. We have to get evidence. Ironclad evidence and an investigation into a family member's murder turns up all sorts of nasty things from people's pasts. They're also more prone to make mistakes."

"She's not his family."

"She's as good as. He's her guardian, isn't he? As good as his daughter."

"This is the wrong way to go about it, Kort. I won't kill anybody else for you."

"You'll do what I tell you to...or they'll be opening an investigation for you as well."

Paula sucked in her breath, making a soft sound.

"Wait. What was that?"

"What?"

Paula looked at Cassie in terror as the silence became more and more prolonged. Somehow, they both knew that if Kort came in there, they'd be killed.

_What do we do?_ Cassie mouthed.

Paula cast around and her eyes fastened onto the window. Cassie followed her gaze and shook her head. They were three floors up. There were ledges but they were narrow.

_What else is there?_ Paula asked silently.

Nodding in silent capitulation, Cassie moved to the window.

"It sounded like it came from the conference room."

Goaded into motion, the two women frantically opened the windows and crawled out onto the ledges.

"Hey!"

The door had opened. Kort was standing there, staring at the two of them. He wasn't angry or afraid. He was simply there to clean up the mess.

Cassie slipped and Paula dove to grab her.

Both of them heard the Kort fire his weapon.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was almost tentatively that Tim went back to his little hidey-hole in the rock wall. He was almost fearful...but the words were piling up in his head and he needed to let some of them out. He only wrote when he was in the library, only on the typewriter. It had to be that way because otherwise he'd end up leaving something out where it could be found. He couldn't write for very long today anyway. He had promised himself that he would go back to the NIU and help more on the search. ...only this time, he would remain in control of himself. Maybe if he could get some words down on the page, it would keep his mind from dwelling on Jimmy's experience so much.

He carried the Remington to a secluded part of the library. It was nearly closing time but there were few people inside. His previous visitors hadn't returned, for which he was grateful. If he were honest, their fury _had _surprised him. It went further than the usual attacks which were generally undertaken by juvenile delinquents or drunks. These guys had been cold sober...and angry.

Resolutely, he pushed those thoughts away. As soon as closing time came, the librarian would shut everything down and there would be nothing to worry about until tomorrow.

Tim sighed and stared at the page he'd just rolled in. He _had_ to answer Jimmy's questions, but he couldn't do it in a way that would reveal who he was. He couldn't let himself be known, not to anyone. Ten years. He'd been doing this for ten years. The first things he'd written and published had been mostly ignored...until he decided to hack into the news databases and use that as his method of dissemination. Jimmy's parents had received his first real publication...but he'd been writing ever since he had escaped from MIT. Ten years would be a good time to review who he was and why he was doing all this.

Nodding to himself, Tim began to write.

_My first article was published ten years ago. It was print only and very few read it. The article was short, carrying only the bare minimum. It has been ten years since then and I have continued to try and open people's eyes to the truth around them. The truth over their heads and under their feet. People have tried to figure out my identity over the years. They have tried to find out who I am, why I am doing this...what I hope to gain from these ceaseless publications reiterating the boundaries of our prison._

_Who am I? I am a citizen, a concerned citizen who, instead of pointing fingers at innocents to take suspicion off himself, is pointing the finger at those in power. I am a simple person who knows and wants others to know as well. I am a man who understands what must be done, who knows what has been done already...who sees that the surface is waiting for us to return to it._

_There is a danger in opening people's eyes...because our glorious leaders don't want your eyes to be opened. They want them closed...and sometimes, they resort to drastic measures to keep them that way. This is a dangerous course I'm presenting. It is the course of those who truly think. I cannot pretend, especially not after a decade of writing, that it is not dangerous, that even death may not be in store... Probably, it already has been for some._

Tim stopped writing and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see that again. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to continue.

_Knowing that danger, why do I persist? Why don't I just stop and let us die our natural deaths? ...because if I stop, our deaths won't be natural. Our deaths will be the result of oppression and they will lead not just to the death of a generation but to the death of an entire species. Ours._

_I can't stop. I won't stop. Not until I myself am called upon to die. That is a possibility for me. I know it and I am ready to accept it should it be required. The death of one man is worth the sacrifice if it saves a world._

_I want to be free. I want you to be free. I want this world to be free._

_That is why I do this. For myself and for you. I will continue to fight for you even if you don't want me to do it, even if you don't want to face the risk. Risks are necessary for survival. I have seen death. I have seen the dying. I have seen the rotting corpses. Death is not pleasant...but death is a natural part of existence...so long as that death does not mean the end of all. If I die, I will make sure that my death forces others to see. Perhaps that is what it will take. If so, I will pay that price._

_Make no mistake, I will not avoid paying the same price that everyone who believes me faces._

Was that enough? Did it say what he thought? Tim mentally changed the word. Did it say what he _felt_? He believed in what he was doing so very desperately...but he didn't want more people to die because of it. However, he had to admit the possibility. He had to...and he should have done so years before.

"I'll die myself before I let anyone else die for me," he said softly and pulled the page out of the typewriter. Then, he quickly packed everything away, pausing briefly at his cache to add one more item to it. A holograph of Sarah. He thought back to just a few days ago when he had thought about the fact that everything he valued was in this place except for Sarah. Now she was there as well. Lost to the world, he could only save her image. He closed up the wall again and left the library.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

You don't go near the NIU building unless you have to. That is the unwritten rule of Mammoth. That's just the way things go. Stay away from the building unless you work there or you have to go in. Erin Kendall didn't know that rule...because she rarely went anywhere. She was generally confined to the same room in the same building 24/7. That was because she saw things when she went other places. She didn't see people; she saw objects. Her handlers knew she wouldn't last much longer. She was a suicide waiting to happen. That was what happened to these geniuses after a few years. Luckily, there was always someone to put in their place.

Today, however, she got out. It wasn't an escape attempt. There wasn't enough of an independent thinker left of her to make such a plan. No, she just got up, thought about going out and went. When a genius decided to go out, they went out, no matter what was put in their way. That was how they were trained. There are no impossibilities, only possibilities...only certainties.

So...she went out and she stood in front of the towering NIU building. It was so large, so shimmery. It was different and she stared and stared. While she stared, she figured out the dimensions, the building materials, the length of time for construction, and about twenty different ways she could destroy the building and get away with it. That also was how she had been trained. Everything is a test. Should they ask her any question about the NIU building, she could tell them, short of the actual building layout. However, even that could be had within ten seconds at any terminal. She walked closer to the building, walked around it, looking up the whole time, never looking away.

She saw the flash.

She heard the scream.

She saw the body fall.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Hey, Gibbs. Your weird guy is back."_

"What weird guy?"

"_You know. The one who came here yesterday?"_

Abby looked up from her terminal.

"I'll come and get him. How is he?"

"_Not obviously crazy. ...but don't they say that it's the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"_

"Thanks, Gary. I'll be down in a sec."

He headed toward the elevator when he caught a glimpse of a terrified face in one of the closets.

"Agent Cassidy?" He almost couldn't tell. The terror had distorted her features.

"Agent Gibbs, please help me," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He killed Cassie and..."

Gibbs hesitated for a fraction of a second, but only that long. Whatever else he was, he was a human being and he knew Paula to be an honest woman and a good agent. He hadn't seen her since her transfer to the Thom task force, but she was still a fellow agent.

"Stay there," he said in a low voice and ran back to the office. "Abby, Tony...we need to play a little hide and seek."

Tony's brow furrowed in confusion but Abby's eyes went wide and she nodded, turning to the computer and beginning to type.

"Come on, DiNozzo."

"Where am I going?"

Gibbs just jerked his head and Tony got the message. He followed silently as Gibbs led him to a storage closet.

"Cassidy," he whispered.

It opened.

"Paula?" Tony asked in amazement.

"Get her back to the office and in the back room," Gibbs said. "Don't ask questions, DiNozzo, just do it!"

Tony nodded and gestured for Paula to come with him. She was trembling with more than just fear they noticed as she came out. Her arm was black and burned, her face scratched and she had more than a small limp. Tony, to his credit, said nothing but helped her down the hall. Gibbs continued on his way down, showing nothing of what had just happened. Abby would see to it that no one else would see what had just happened either. Her computer skills might not be the same level as Tim's but she knew the NIU system.

When he reached the lobby, he was relieved to see that Tim wasn't nearly so...he had to admit that he had seemed genuinely crazy yesterday. The craziness wasn't there, but there was still an added edge to him.

"Hey, McGee. You all right?"

He seemed a bit embarrassed as he stood up. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"What do you need?"

"I didn't finish."

"You all right to do that again?"

"Not...not exactly." He actually seemed awkward. It made him look more human. Gibbs took pity on him and gestured for him to come.

"What then?"

"I'm...I'm not supposed to do what I did yesterday because...because of what happened yesterday." He wouldn't look at Gibbs. "But that needs to get done...and I think you need me to do it. So...I'm here, but I need to go more slowly."

"Sure. Okay. How do you do that?"

"Make me talk," he said, staring very hard at the walls of the elevator.

"Talk?"

"Yeah. If I can keep talking, keep answering questions, I won't get...sucked in."

"Why do you?"

"Because that's the only way to survive."

The doors dinged open and Gibbs had a moment's worry that Paula would be on display, but they got into the office and Tony was there working. Abby was gone.

"You can use that terminal, there. I don't know what you were doing yesterday but..."

"I saved my work. I always save my work," Tim said softly, staring at the keyboard. He took a deep breath and sat down.

"We'll be in here if you need anything, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded vaguely.

"McGee!" he said sharply.

Tim jumped a little and looked at him. He nodded again. "Yes, Agent Gibbs. I hear you."

"Good."

Tony walked into the back office without looking too concerned and Gibbs followed him.

"What happened to her?" he asked in a low voice.

"She doesn't know for sure...only that Trent Kort is the one who killed Cassie. That's all she remembers right now."

Gibbs nodded and stepped into the office. It was a small space containing little besides a cot (for long nights) and a small desk containing yet another computer terminal. Abby was crouched beside Paula who was lying on the cot, eyes closed, fists clenched tightly as Abby attempted to treat her burns.

"That's from an EM bullet, isn't it, Cassidy," Gibbs said, kneeling beside Abby.

"Looks like it, Gibbs," Abby said when Paula didn't speak.

"Not a direct shot, though."

"Cassie got it," Paula said in a cracked voice. "Right in the face. She fell."

"Do you know why?"

She shook her head. "No. I can only see Kort's face and his gun. We were out on the ledge."

"Near as I can tell, Boss, she must have swung down to another floor and then come up here."

"Abby?"

Abby shook her head. "I can't do this, Gibbs. This is way too serious for me. I'm not a doctor. I'm a scientist."

"We know a doctor, though," Tony said. "One who probably wouldn't say anything."

Gibbs thought about it. It was strange how quickly they had drawn Tim and Ducky into their trusted circle, how quickly it had become vital to have them around. If things were only a bit different...

"Call him. Abby? The cameras?"

"Wiped of the last few minutes. They just have you walking through the halls."

Gibbs smiled in compliment. Abby wasn't quite as fast or as skilled as Tim, but she ruled in the NIU. "McGee needs you to keep him from turning into a repeat of yesterday. Keep him talking."

"Okay, Gibbs." She stood and left, followed by Tony who was already dialing in Ducky's access code.

"Paula, tell me everything you can remember, no matter how fractured. It will distract you from what I'm doing."

Her face cracked in a small smile and then she closed her eyes tightly and moaned as Gibbs began to evaluate her wounds. This would tell him not only how badly she had been hurt but also the EM setting on the weapon Kort had fired at her.

"Talk to me, Cassidy. Start with this morning."

"Cassie and I noticed that Kort was...different. He was almost...gleeful. It was strange." She winced as Gibbs turned her arm.

"And?"

"And nothing. We went to work and didn't think anything more of it. Typical morning. We got lunch from the cafeteria and went...to one of the conference rooms."

"On what floor?"

"The task force floor. They're never being used."

Paula fell silent. Gibbs didn't wonder at her hopefully-temporary amnesia. No matter how close she'd been to Cassie, in order for this much damage to be inflicted on her, Kort would have had to put it on the highest setting. At five, the bullet would render the target unconscious, even with a graze. At ten... It could hit the wall _beside_ the target and still burn, perhaps even kill, the target.

"Anything else?"

"This is where it gets dark."

"Tell what you remember. Anything at all."

"We heard Kort talking."

"To whom?"

"I don't know."

Gibbs didn't push it. She was looking extremely pale. He was amazed that she had made it to the storage closet.

"About what?"

"He...he'd killed someone... I think...or he _was_ going to kill someone?"

"Kort or this other guy?"

"I don't remember. Cassie and I were scared. I remember that. We were on the ledge."

"You're sure it was Kort who killed Cassie?"

"Yeah...pretty sure. It's so confused in my head."

"That's all right. Don't push it for now. You're sure Cassie Yates is dead?"

Paula's eyes opened and looked at him, tormented and frightened.

"Yes. I saw her get hit. I saw her fall. He got her right in the face." She began to cry and closed her eyes again.

"Okay. All right, Paula. We'll get you taken care of...and out of Kort's hands."

"Thank you."

"One more thing."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Why did you come to me? Why not one of the other teams? Sacks, maybe?"

"I don't know...I guess I figured I could trust you."

Gibbs smiled. "You can."

"I know."

A soft scratching at the door attracted Gibbs' attention and he turned around in time to see Ducky coming in with his doctor's bag. In the room behind there was a low muttering sound that he figured must be Tim keeping himself connected to reality.

"Agent Gibbs, it was quite a surprise to be called upon to practice medicine. Timothy is generally the only one who needs my services. Surely, you have doctors coming out of the proverbial wazoo."

"This needs to be kept quiet, Ducky."

"I assumed as much when Agent DiNozzo asked me to come to headquarters and assured me that I was _not_ coming to doctor Timothy." He stepped past Gibbs and shook his head. "Oh dear. An EM bullet?"

"How did you know?" Gibbs asked, surprised.

"I've lived for many more years than you have, Agent Gibbs," Ducky said and knelt beside the cot. "Now, my dear, what is your name?"

"Paula...Cassidy."

"Very well. Paula, your injury appears to be rather serious. I have come as prepared as was possible, but it is still serious."

"I figured."

He nodded and smiled gently. "I can put you out while I work. Would you prefer that?"

"Yes."

"All right." Ducky pulled out a jet injector and administered an anesthetic. He waited until Paula sighed and relaxed. "Are you going to tell me what happened, Agent Gibbs? Or am I expected to patch up and go?"

"We don't know exactly what happened, Ducky...and what we do know...you probably shouldn't."

"NIU appears to be in a state of quiet upheaval."

"Yeah."

Ducky began pulling out his tools.

"Paula is lucky that I keep my pharmacy well-stocked and am prepared for almost any emergency."

"Almost?"

"Well, no one can be prepared for everything." He began smearing a thick yellow paste over Paula's blackened arm. "The burns could be worse. I don't see the penetration point."

"The bullet didn't hit her."

Ducky didn't respond. He simply continued patching her up. Gibbs said nothing either. A few minutes passed before Ducky sat back, satisfied with his work.

"Her ankle is sprained and should not have any weight on it for a couple of weeks. Her arm...well, we'll have to wait and see what happens. She could rally tolerably, but the burns are deep enough that it could go either way. I sincerely hope that the poor soul who was hit is dead."

"Yes. So far as we have been able to tell."

"Timothy is right. Sometimes death is better than living in pain."

The door burst open and Gibbs spun around to confront the intruder.

"Gibbs, Tim just ran out!"

"What?" Ducky asked. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Ducky," Abby said, her eyes wide. "I was talking to him like you said, asking him questions. He was responding...a little slow but he was responding. Then, he just jumped up and ran out of the room. Tony went after him, but..."

"What were you asking him, Abigail?"

"I was asking him how he tracked in on the lines of code he thought were important and he was telling me about how the various programmers have patterns, personalities that infect their coding. Then, he stopped. Said he'd found it. ...and then, he left."

Tony came running back in, gasping. "I lost him. Who would have thought that he'd be able to run so fast! Can you try tracking him?"

"He has a wristband!" Abby said, smacking her forehead. "Of course, I can!"

"No, you cannot, Abigail," Ducky said, softly. "You cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because Timothy will know."

"How?"

Ducky didn't answer. Instead, he asked another question. "You said that he declared he had found it?"

"Yeah."

Tony shook his head, still panting. "No. He said he'd found _her_, not _it_."

"Oh, you're right. He did. What do we do?"

Ducky shook his head. "At times such as these, I have found that the best thing to do is wait. Timothy will come back when he has done what he feels necessary, or he will contact me."

"What if he's going to...I don't know...get revenge?"

Ducky just sighed. "If he is, you could not do anything to stop him, my dear. Timothy, for all his flaws, is not someone who can be stopped, turned away from the course he has deemed necessary. I have tried many times."

"So...we wait?"

"Yes. Wait...and trust that he will do that right thing."

Gibbs was frankly skeptical. "You think he will?"

"I can only hope, Agent Gibbs. I cannot do anything else when it comes to Timothy."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim towered over the trembling figure.

"You helped them kill my sister! You helped kill my _sister_! Why?" he shouted, almost literally seeing red. "You're a murderer! Just like them!"

There was no reply.

"I recognized the signature. I've seen it a million times before! I know it was you who turned off the wristbands!"

Cowering in the shadows near the NIU building, Erin suddenly made a sound.

She began to sing.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star  
How I wonder what you are  
Up above the world so high  
Like a diamond in the sky  
Twinkle, twinkle little star  
How I wonder what you are."

Tim felt the blinding anger begin to fade in the face of what he was seeing. Erin began to point at blank spaces in the air.

"Link...insert phrase...close..."

Tim knew what she was doing and he crouched down in front of her.

"You helped them kill my sister," he said again, this time without the same fire. "Why?"

...but then he knew...and he didn't need the words she spoke. He could say them right along with her.

"I have to finish."

"Erin!"

The voice startled him, but not her. She stood and began to walk toward the voices. He knew who they must be.

"Don't go, Erin. You'll only die in there." He knew it was a hopeless plea. She could no more refuse a summons than he could have had they called him in before his bid for freedom.

Erin stopped. She looked back and she truly looked at him for a brief moment.

"I saw a body fall. I wish it was mine."

"Erin Kendall! Return!"

Then, she turned around and walked away. Tim stood, helpless, watching her leave, knowing what she meant...seeing what he could have...no what he _would_ have been. She would be dead soon. He could see it. So could she. She wanted that end. So did he.

The only difference was that he was free to choose and she could only find freedom in death.

He began to shiver, feeling a cold that had nothing to do with the air around him. He turned and ran back toward the NIU, passed the surprised guard in the lobby, up the stairs (he bypassed the elevator) and back into Gibbs' office. He stood there, staring at these people who had become so unexpectedly rooted in his life and then he looked at Ducky...he couldn't find the words, couldn't explain. He just shook his head.

"Timothy, what is it?"

He shook his head again and walked to the computer, but his path was blocked.

"No, McGee. I think you're done with the computer for today."

He looked up and saw that it was Tony standing in his way. He tried to keep walking, but a hand was on his arm. It was a small, feminine hand. He stared at it and tried to pull away. There were words being spoken but they couldn't break through the sudden freezing that had taken over his brain. He was still cold, freezing, shaking.

Then, in the midst of the icy wastes of his life, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It broke through, as it always had done, and he heard the voices again.

"Timothy, this is not the way."

He stopped fighting to get to the terminal...but he couldn't get rid of the cold. A hand, feeling almost hot, was on his forehead.

"He's not feverish. Here, get him on a chair. No, not the computer chair, Abby. That one. Yeah."

Hands pressed down on his shoulders and he sank down onto a chair, still shaking.

Then, Ducky's face appeared in his vision.

"What happened, lad?"

"She's going to die, Ducky," he finally was able to say. "She's...going to die."

Then, he bent over and threw up on the floor.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Morning came, as it had a habit of doing, even a mile beneath the surface of the earth. It was a subdued NIU team that met up in the office. It had taken a significant amount of wrangling to get Paula out of the building unseen, but it had been done. She was now being cared for by one of Ducky's friends who was a top physician. She had the best chance of recovery with her...and perhaps her memory would return.

Ducky had taken Tim home. He had refused to explain what had caused his turmoil, but before going he had shown them the exact code and told them that it was done by someone in the government. He would not say any more than that.

This new day brought with it the cold hard facts that were revealing a government ever-more corrupt with each passing moment.

It was beginning to wear on all of them. Gibbs could see it in their eyes. He was appalled at how high it seemed to go, but he, at least, had been aware of the corruption before this case.

"Tim's singing tonight at The Surface. I'm going to go and listen to him," Abby announced into the silence.

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Because he told us that he feels alive when he sings. I want to see him alive. I've seen him pretty much every other way."

Tony was quiet for a few seconds and then he nodded. "I'll come with you."

"Gibbs?"

Gibbs said nothing but after a few moments, he nodded. Anything to get them out of this funk, although he wondered if watching Tim would really help.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The old librarian walked through one of the small shopping centers in Mammoth. It was near the library. That was a necessity. He didn't want to be late, and he didn't want Tim to have to face off with people on his own. It was hard enough knowing the lumps he took to protect a man he thought was a lot older than he really was. However, these meetings, useless as they sometimes seemed, were important.

He looked around for a few seconds and then saw his informant.

"You move pretty fast for an old guy," the younger man said.

The librarian smiled. He didn't ask for help getting around. He didn't need a repeat. He didn't because he could hear perfectly well.

"You always feel younger on the inside," he said with a smile and sat at the small table.

"You know, every time we meet for these lovely tete-a-tetes, I wonder how it is that no one has ever noticed before."

The librarian's eyes twinkled as he laughed softly. "People see what they expect to see. How many people do you think have ever looked me in the eye?"

"Point."

"Now, what's the news?"

"Not much worth having, but there's been some...stuff happening."

"Like what?"

"Cassie Yates and Paula Cassidy, two of the members of the Thom task force, have disappeared. Neither seen since lunchtime yesterday. No sign of foul play, but..."

"But what?" The librarian leaned forward.

"But it doesn't feel right to me. Something's off about the explanation. For one thing, neither of them have been seen leaving the building. You know what security is like. It should have shown up, no matter which entrance they took."

"Are they missing or dead?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"Most of us think that dead is more likely...but...by whom and for what reason, no one knows for sure. Kort certainly isn't shedding any tears over it."

"Trent Kort?"

"Yeah. The very same. He expressed his "official concern" that two members of his team were missing but other than that... To be honest, he seemed almost relieved."

"You think he killed them?"

"I don't know. If he did, he had a reason for it."

"What?"

"Hey!" The man raised his hands quickly. "Hey, I did _not_ say I liked what he was doing, but you _know _Kort. You know that he has a reason for everything he does. If he did kill them, then there was a reason. The guy may be the devil incarnate, although I don't know if I'd go that far myself, but he doesn't kill wantonly. He's too careful for that."

"All right. All right."

"Anything else you want to know?"

"No need to get snippy. How _is_ the task force progressing?"

"Slowly. As usual. They're still stuck with going through each member of the population and individually eliminating them based on age, ability, alibi, you know the drill."

The librarian chuckled to himself. "What a waste of time and money."

"_I_ know that. _You_ know that, but try telling Kort that. He likes the position he has. He likes the importance of it and the power it gives him. The only thing better than heading up the task force in charge of finding Thom the Gem is actually _finding_ Thom the Gem. Once that happens, there's nothing that will stop him. He'll be next in line for the Triumvirate."

"That will be a sad day."

"Bloody, perhaps. Sad isn't the word I'd use."

"What about the investigation into the murder of Sarah McGee?"

"Who?"

"Gibbs' team."

"Oh, _that_ case. Well, they're playing it pretty quiet. The brother has come a couple of times over the past couple of days...been pretty edgy. Makes me wonder if he's a suspect or a witness. That other guy, Mallard, he was in yesterday as well. I don't know where their case is at. They're not talking, but let me tell you, Abby Sciuto's been acting strangely ever since they took the case on. Something about it is getting to her."

The librarian nodded, thinking carefully about what that could mean. So many things about Tim McGee could lead to that kind of reaction.

"Anything else you want from me?"

"No. Keep me apprised, especially about Kort."

"He's too young to be the one responsible for your situation."

"He's the same type. Dangerous."

"Yeah, and speaking of dangerous, remind me again why I choose to risk my career and possibly my life by playing the rat to you?"

The librarian stood up. "Because you've got a conscience."

The young man sighed.

"Cheer up. At least it didn't get you killed." He walked off but heard the muttered reply behind him.

"Not yet, anyway."

The librarian smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Tim awoke, the awful cold was gone. In its place was numbness that he embraced for the moment. He hadn't been forced to face his ultimate fate in years. It wasn't enough to be free himself. Knowing that so many weren't, that so many were feeling the way he had felt, that he could do nothing to save them was like a dagger in his brain.

"Timothy?" Ducky's voice was soft and nonconfrontational.

...and it made Tim feel a surge of irrational anger at him, a desire to make one of the rank and file citizens feel what he had, what all the geniuses were forced to feel. At the same time, he knew Ducky was far from deserving it.

"What happened last night, lad?"

"Nothing." Tim sat up and began gathering everything he'd need for the day. With his performance coming up that night, he wanted to be sure he was ready.

"Timothy, that's not true." Ducky's voice was now subtly chiding. "Whom did you find in your search?"

"No one. It's nothing." His bag was packed and he walked into the bathroom to change, hoping Ducky would just leave him alone.

He didn't. He waited.

"You can't leave this information out," Ducky said. "This is part of the investigation into who killed your sister! Who killed Sarah!"

"I know that." The anger returned. Ducky didn't get it. He just couldn't understand Tim's need _not_ to tell.

"Who was it, Timothy?" Ducky asked again.

Tim had never really been angry at Ducky, not once since Ducky had come to visit him and then had saved him from eventual oblivion.

...but he was angry now. He was furious...at Ducky, at the whole world, at _anyone_ who was a member of this horrible world and was indirectly supporting this torture. ...and for once, he didn't hold back. He turned on Ducky and began to let it all out, as much venom as he could release, he did...even though all the while, a small part of him knew that Ducky was least deserving of it.

"You want to know who I found, Ducky?" Tim shouted. "Do you really want to know? Erin Kendall. That's who I found, but you don't know who she is, do you? Of course, you don't! None of you can know that. You don't care to know that. She was someone just like me! She was someone whose only independent thought now is a desire to die. All she wants is to die! And she will. In a few days, a few weeks, she'll die...because in the end, death is the only way for people like us to be free! Do you even _care_ about that? Is all you care about the investigation on behlaf of someone who will _never_ be coming back? Sarah is dead! Murdered! She's gone! Nothing matters to her anymore! She can't feel. She can't see. She can't think. She can't breathe! She doesn't exist! Erin is alive! ...and nothing anyone can do will save her. Her whole life is over. She's breathing but she's been dead for years! Don't you care about that? Don't you?"

Tim didn't hit Ducky as he had ten years ago...but it was a near thing. He wanted to. He wanted to damage something, someone...make them feel a small percentage of what he felt. Break them as he was broken. ...and Ducky was the only one there, as he had been before.

Ducky, for his part, didn't even flinch. He wasn't afraid as he had been before. He just waited.

"Are you finished?" he asked calmly, perhaps a little sadly.

Tim was angry that Ducky wouldn't even give him the satisfaction (and pain) of hurting him. Instead, he just stood there. Tim grabbed his bag and walked to the door, wanting nothing more than to get away from that bastion of calm. He only paused for a moment when he heard Ducky's soft voice behind him.

"I'll see you at the club tonight, Timothy."

Tim didn't answer, didn't turn around. He just left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I expected more from you, Officer David."_

Ziva tried not to feel anything but disappointment. "Yes, I had expected more from myself, Director. There is a reason that Thom the Gem has been able to hide for ten years. I have a place I am going to go tonight and see if I can find any more possibilities."

"_Where?"_

"It is a club called The Surface. I met someone who sings there and it is the type of place a fanatic like Thom would go were he able. How much longer do you wish me to search?"

"_Until he is found, Ziva. No excuses."_ The picture disappeared and Ziva sighed.

She had never wanted to fail so much in her life...but she knew she wouldn't. She'd find Thom and she would have to take care of him.

...at least she could look forward to hearing Tim sing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The old librarian spent most of the day watching Tim carefully. He had come in with a deafening silent cloud around him. He never spoke much, of course. Hearing Tim garrulous would be as foreign as seeing him dance. But today, he was almost defiantly silent, as if he had done something wrong and was determined to brave it out. Every time a group came into the library, Tim's head would come up or he would come to the front just in time for them to enter (a skill the librarian wished he had) and he would eye them almost eagerly...but not in a pleasant way. He was waiting for one of the troublemakers to return. He _wanted_ them to come; so that he could take out his frustrations on lawbreakers.

Unfortunately for Tim, however, the patrons were all on their best behavior today...probably because of the looks he was giving them.

It was sad to see how little Tim had progressed in the ten years he had been working at the library. He still remembered it very clearly when he had come asking for a job. Then, the damage he had suffered was still very vividly expressed on his face, in his eyes...and in the long red scars on his wrists. And yet, he had spoken very calmly and clearly and simply gave his credentials.

It had been a risk to hire someone who so obviously had been in the hands of the government for some reason, but the librarian had never had cause to regret it. Everyone had their secrets. Tim was no exception. The librarian let him keep his secrets and he kept his own counsel.

"I have to leave," Tim said unexpectedly. It was more than he'd said all day.

"All right. I'll close up."

"Okay."

He turned to go.

"Tim?"

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

Tim turned around. "No."

That was a surprise.

"What?"

He was rewarded by a small smile. "I said no. No, I'm not all right. ...but there's nothing that anyone can do about that. If there was...we'd be living in a different world. I have to go."

"People can do more than you might think, Tim. Just keep that in mind."

The smile became more of a grimace. "People can do a lot...but I find it hard to believe that they are capable of more good than I see."

He walked out of the building and the librarian sighed. If he didn't find something to look forward to, the librarian predicted that Tim would breakdown before the year was up.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"I was looking over your song list, Tim," Angelo said tentatively.

"And?" Tim didn't bother to look up. He had expected this to be honest.

"And it seems rather...more depressing than your usual."

"It's not all depressing. I'm making a point...as usual. Some of it is for my sister."

"You sing what you want, Tim. People will always come to listen, but well...this _is_ a place for people to have a good time."

"It's also a place for people to think. I won't drive your customers away. In fact, I know I'm bringing at least one new one in."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Ducky's coming."

Angelo smiled, reached out as though he was going to pat Tim consolingly on the back and then thought the better of it and left the room. Tim took a deep breath. He was all in black tonight. That wasn't his usual presentation. But it was necessary. It felt right and he wasn't going to let _anyone_ tell him how his show was going to go. It was _his _decision.

He sat alone in the backstage area. His costume wasn't flamboyant tonight. It was black. Head to toe, he was dressed in black. Mourning? Perhaps...mostly, it was because he wanted to be different from his usual. The band was already on, playing the soft instrumental stuff that always preceded a show. Little did anyone realize that this stuff was mostly from the time before the Descent as well. It was called "classical" music. Tim rather liked it and almost would have enjoyed listening to it rather than performing. Almost.

"Ladies and gentleman! Thank you for coming! The Surface welcomes its own Elf Looord!"

Tim heard the applause, but for a moment, he wanted to say forget it and just hide from all of humanity. He looked at them and saw only sheep who couldn't and didn't _want _to think for themselves. That anger that kept him sane infused his mind and made him want to scream at them to start to _think_ for once.

...but he didn't do that. Instead, he pasted on his usual fake smile and jumped onto the stage. Instead of starting with a song, he smiled at the applause and waited for it to stop. It did. Gradually, awkwardly.

"Good evening. Tonight's program is a little different from my usual. You will still get songs from the surface. That's what you get here. That's what you always get here...but this time..." Tim paused and looked toward the back. He saw the NIU team arrayed in unassuming positions. They actually looked like they were here just to listen. Ziva was to his right and Ducky was right in the center. How odd to have such a group all here to listen to him sing.

"...this time, I have a message for you. I lost someone this week...my only family." The audience was still. "She's gone and will never come back. My message is this: I want you to think." Then, he looked over his shoulder and nodded to the conductor to start playing.

The tune was an interesting one, chromatic chords at the beginning before resolving into a major key.

"_Ain't no miracle being born  
__People doing it every day.  
__Ain't no miracle growing up  
__People just grow that way."_

This was one of the songs he had thought of cutting out. He didn't believe what it was saying. It was too upbeat...but if it made people open to what he was going to tell them later, it didn't matter that he didn't believe it. If they did, good for them.

"_...and maybe what's good gets a little bit better  
__And maybe what's bad...gets gone."_

He finished and stood quietly, waiting for the applause to fade. Without speaking, he nodded for the next song. This one would make them uncomfortable.

"_Welcome to the planet.  
__Welcome to existence.  
__Everyone's here  
__Everyone's here  
__Everybody's watching you now.  
__Everybody waits for you now.  
__What happens next?  
__What happens next?_

_I dare you to move!  
__I dare you to move!  
__I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.  
__I dare you to move!  
__I dare you to move!  
__Like today never happened  
__Today never happened before."_

He caught Gibbs' expression as he continued the next verse and when the chorus was a dare, he couldn't even pretend that it wasn't sending a message. Gibbs actually shook his head with a small smile.

"_Where can you run to escape from yourself?  
__Where you gonna go?  
__Where you gonna go?  
__Salvation is here!"_

It wasn't enough. They were uncomfortable, but he could see in their faces that it didn't mean anything more to them than another weird song from the surface, from before the Descent. They didn't understand what he was asking of them.

Angelo was fretting at the back of the club, even though no one was leaving and more people were coming in. Tim smiled at the applause and met Ducky's eyes. He looked sad and Tim had to look away, not wanting to confront that emotion. The music began...a sitar as part of the accompaniment. Tim had insisted on that because it was one of the things that had drawn him to this song in the first place. It was so weird to have that sitar playing.

"_I see a red door and I want it painted black  
__No colors anymore I want them to turn black..."_

The lights went down and a single red light illuminated Tim, standing center stage. The light shifted from red to black in a slow ebb and flow.

"_I look inside myself and see my heart is black  
__I see my red door and must have it painted black  
__Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts  
__It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black..."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As the song ended and the lights went out completely, Tony leaned over and whispered under the applause.

"Happy guy, isn't he."

Abby slugged him.

"He's making a point, Tony."

"Yeah...and his point is that this is a hopeless guy standing up there because no matter what he says, he doesn't think anyone can really do what he wants them to do."

"What is that?"

"Think about what he's saying."

"Can you?" she asked with a grin.

"Sure. Look at that song and the way he set up the lights and everything. It's not just himself he's talking about. He's talking about the oppression from the whole world. Wanting to blot out the sun? Pretty obvious."

_Thwack!_

"Quiet!" Gibbs said and he turned his attention back on the stage as the lights came up low. They revealed Tim, sitting at a piano that had suddenly appeared center stage.

"I didn't know he could play," Abby said in surprise. "He's good."

"It's not a complicated tune," Tony whispered back. "I could play it."

_Thwack!_

"Quiet, Tony."

Tim's eyes were closed as if he were trying to imagine what he was asking everyone to imagine.

"_You may say that I'm a dreamer  
__But I'm not the only one.  
__I hope some day you'll join us  
__And the world will live as one."_

Gibbs had to admit, though, that Tony was right. Tim didn't seem to feel any of what he was singing in the song. This was more hopeless than he'd even been right after finding out about Sarah's murder.

The lights went out and the music ceased. The applause was louder and the audience was sitting up higher in their seats, as if hearing a call to action...which it wasn't quite. Tim wasn't asking them to riot...just to think.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stood motionless in front of them, looking up into the lights, off into the distance, seeing something they could not see.

"_Lost,  
__On a painted sky  
__Where the clouds are hung  
__For the poet's eye  
__You may find him  
__If...you may find him"_

Ziva listened and was touched by the words. Tim wasn't a professional singer in terms of ability, but he had a strong tone and kept on tune. He also had a trick of finding a person in the audience and making eye contact with them, making it seem as though he was singing only to that person.

"_And we dance  
__To a whispered voice  
__Overheard by the soul  
__Undertook by the heart  
__And you may know it  
__If you may know it"_

He turned his eyes on her and smiled briefly...and continued to sing...only to her. The chorus came again and he did not shift his eyes.

"_Be  
__As a page that aches for a word  
__Which speaks on a theme that is timeless  
__And the one God will make for your day  
__Sing  
__As a song in search of a voice that is silent  
__And the one God will make for your way."_

He never took his eyes off her until he finished singing. She felt the _force_ of the words he sang, as if the command to be was for her and her alone. Yes, Tim was a definite performer. Then, to her surprise, the music continued and the lights went out, the music building in volume and tempo until...suddenly...

It stopped.

Everyone was so startled by the abrupt end to the song that they sat unmoving for a few seconds. Then, as the last low rumble of the bass faded to nothing, they decided they liked it and began to applaud madly, getting to their feet, in fact, and cheering.

Ziva did not, she was taking the time to watch, as the lights slowly came back up, to see who was acting in what way. Her eyes fell on Ducky who was also sitting...and he wasn't applauding. He was just watching Tim on the stage. Against her will, a thought began to grow in her mind. She hadn't spoken to Ducky much, but she had noticed how well he understood Tim and how grounded he seemed to be. He had a calm way of speaking and a boundless knowledge.

_No, not him,_ she thought desperately. It couldn't be Ducky. Thom the Gem couldn't be Ducky because... Here, she faltered. There was no earthly reason why it couldn't be...and too many reasons why it could. He was wealthy. He was smart. He was educated. He had connections.

As another song began, Ziva heard only snatches as her mind insisted on laying out the arguments in favor of Ducky being Thom the Gem...and the possibilities for how she could do her job without killing Tim's only friend.

"_Walking down the street  
__Distant memories  
__Are buried in the past, forever..."_

Ducky would have the command of language to write the way Thom the Gem did.

"_Let your balalaika sing what my guitar wants to say..."_

He would have the connections to disseminate his words.

"_Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams..._"

_I can't kill Ducky._ That was all she knew...and that was more or less all she heard for the rest of the show.

"_In the wind of change."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

All through the set, Ducky could hear, even if no one else could, the pain Tim was expressing in his songs. His spirit was dampened beyond anything Ducky had ever heard. The confrontation with his own powerlessness, with his possible fate. It had hurt him and he was well on his way to cutting off all ties to mankind, giving them all up as hopeless cases. ...but he didn't want to. That's what Ducky heard in Tim's songs. That's why he was pleading with them to think. He wanted them to give him a reason to believe.

A spotlight came up and Tim stepped into it for a moment. "This is the last song...and it's for my sister."

Then, he stepped out of the light, but the spotlight stayed and shone on that empty spot.

A lone guitar began. After a few bars, it was joined by a violin.

"_I close my eyes  
__Only for a moment, and the moment's gone  
__All my dreams  
__Pass before my eyes, a curiosity  
__Dust in the wind  
__All they are is dust in the wind._

_Same old song  
__Just a drop of water in an endless sea  
__All we do  
__Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see  
__Dust in the wind  
__All we are is dust in the wind."_

Ducky felt tears in his own eyes as he watched Tim's still black form in the darkness. Sarah was the one who was gone, but Tim was the one for whom he grieved. The blows just seemed to keep coming and he couldn't bear them. Tim was beginning to drown in the subsumed sorrow. He just didn't realize it.

"_Now, don't hang on  
__Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky  
__It slips away  
__And all your money won't another minute buy.  
__Dust in the wind  
__All we are is dust in the wind.  
__Dust in the wind  
__Everything is dust in the wind."_

The applause that followed was subdued but sustained. People again rose to their feet, but in respect for Tim's loss as the spotlight went out.

When the lights came up, Tim wasn't on the stage. Angelo came on and thanked everyone for coming. This was the last set. No encores, and so on and so on. Ducky stood, wanting to talk to the club owner but there was a mass of people all trying to move this way and that and he was stuck. Instead, he turned around, caught a glimpse of Ziva looking very disturbed and then the NIU team, standing together, Abby crying in Gibbs' arms. That made him smile a little. She was a bundle of extreme emotions, that one. ...rather the opposite of Tim, actually.

Sighing, Ducky sat back in his seat, deciding to wait until the club emptied out a bit before trying to get anywhere.

A few minutes later, he was accosted by Tony, Abby and Gibbs. Ziva had melted away. He expected that of her.

"Wow, Ducky," Abby said, her voice husky. "I didn't know he could sing like that. Amazing."

"Yes, he does have a talent for performance," Ducky said, looking at the now-empty stage.

"Is that his usual set?"

"No, much of what he sings is more upbeat. As he said, it was because he lost his family."

Tony sat down. "I don't think most of the people here really heard what he had to say, you know."

"What do you mean, Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony shrugged, as if embarrassed at getting caught analyzing something so deeply. "Even that last song, it wasn't so much about losing Sarah as it was about all of us losing everything."

Ducky merely nodded.

"Timothy expects little from his audiences, but you're correct. He did want them to consider that. I would wager that few did."

Gibbs was silent, staring, not at the stage, but at the curtain where Tim must have gone.

"He will be all right, Agent Gibbs."

"Will he?"

The pointed nature of that question suddenly demonstrated to Ducky how much Gibbs had been affected by this performance tonight. He had seen Tim for who he was. A difficult task in the day to day life.

"I hope he will...but he will recover from this slump in a few days...unfortunately." Ducky stood to head backstage.

"Unfortunately?" Abby asked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Grief takes a long time, Abigail. He will not allow it and thus, he will pretend he feels nothing. That is unfortunate. Thank you all for coming. He won't say it, but I'm sure he appreciated it."

Then, he walked toward the back of the club.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat backstage, in a shadowy, dusty corner. He didn't want to see anyone at all, least of all Angelo or the band. He wanted to curl up and never see anyone again. The words of the last song throbbed in his mind and he could see too many moments vanishing into nothing. Sarah, vanishing into nothing. Erin, vanishing into nothing.

He hated feeling like this. Anger was preferable.

"Timothy, are you ready to leave?"

Ducky. Tim tried to pull back further into the shadows...but the space was already too small for him. He saw the feet of his guardian come into view and then saw Ducky himself as he crouched down in front of him.

"Timothy?"

He said nothing about that morning. He didn't sound angry or disappointed. He simply held out a hand to help Tim stand.

Tim hesitated and then grasped the proffered hand.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked again.

Tim thought for a moment and then nodded.

"Then, let's go."

Tim picked up his bag and allowed Ducky to lead him away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Sunday came and saw Tim holed up at the library, finishing his book. The library wasn't open on Sundays, but that didn't stop Tim from sneaking out of the house early in the morning and coming to hide there. He was all but finished by the end of the day. In fact, he stayed a bit longer to make sure he got it done. He had a feeling that he needed to do so, like if he didn't finish it now, he'd never get the chance.

_I have ended every article, every book, every announcement with an affirmation of truth. This is no different. I have not told you everything but I swear that this is the truth as I know it. I swear that I have not lied in these pages. A person needs to convince through truth not through lies. Lies will eventually fail, as they always do, but the truth has the power to set you free...if you're willing to let it._

_This book is truth._

He hid the typewriter and the pages, deciding that he'd come early Monday to organize everything and then get it sent out Monday night. When all was secure, Tim went back to Ducky's and hid in his bedroom. He knew that he should apologize. He knew that Ducky wouldn't pressure him for it...but to apologize meant to admit to things he didn't want to deal with. He just didn't know how anymore. Maybe he never had. Did children really understand the importance of human relationships? Had he? He couldn't remember.

All he could do was continue on as he had...but he had a feeling that he would never get that back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_What is it that you wish to do?"_

Ziva took a deep breath and laid out her plan to her extremely-skeptical father. "I wish to arrest the man I suspect is Thom the Gem. He is more valuable alive than dead."

"_What has brought about this change?"_

"He is a man of wealth, of influence. ...but he could not have done it all alone. He would have needed help. If I arrest him, I will be able to find all his contacts."

"_You do not have the authority to arrest a citizen of the Subterranean States on SS soil, Ziva."_

"Yes. I know. I am prepared to offer my services to the NIU here and act as though it is simply a sharing of information."

"_I do not trust them to deal with him as is necessary."_

"I could speak privately with the man in charge of the task force. He may be willing to hand Thom over to us with certain assurances. He is wanted all over the world. There is no law saying we cannot move him to Israel."

"_And if this man says no?"_

"Then, I will either kill Thom or I will leave it to them...whatever is your order. I still feel that it is better to know everyone involved. If not, someone else can take up the mask of Thom the Gem and carry on in his footsteps."

Eli David sat back, contemplating the options and then he nodded.

"_I agree, Officer David. Proceed as seems fitting to you. If they do not wish to send him to us, then I will expect complete cooperation with them when it comes to sharing information. The Hegemony will be glad to know that he has been taken care of."_

Ziva smiled and nodded before disconnecting. Only when the connection was severed did she sit down, feeling, for once, that what she was doing was wrong. She put off making the call to Trent Kort until the next morning, wanting to think a little bit more. Maybe she could figure out something else to do other than arrest Ducky.

She just didn't see how it was possible.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, so why are we here, Boss?" Tony asked. "It's Sunday night! Couldn't it wait for tomorrow?"

"No, Tony, it couldn't. Ducky called me and told me who it was that McGee went to see."

Abby perked up. "Who was it?"

"One of the geniuses. Someone in the power of the government. I ran her name through the database. Erin Kendall. She attended MIT and got...conscripted into the NIU thinktank just across the street from headquarters."

"And?"

"And I need you to find out who was...in charge of her on the day she put that code into the wristband system."

Abby nodded and sat down at Gibbs' terminal. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she put in the request, narrowing it down to the minute in case such detail was necessary. Then, she stopped.

"Oh, Gibbs, what are we going to do?"

Gibbs leaned over and felt Tony hovering over his shoulder as well.

"We're in big trouble, Boss."

Gibbs had to admit that Tony was right. This was the last thing he had hoped to see. Beneath the designated day, the names glowed red.

_Erin Kendall – NIU  
__Controller – Trent Kort, NIU Thom the Gem task force  
__Use: Computer programming_

They were going to have to take down someone who was on the fast track to becoming one of the NIU directors.

They were definitely in trouble.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Something's come up."_

The librarian straightened in his seat. That his contact was actually calling him directly said something about the nature of the call.

"What is it?"

"_I don't know yet, but Kort's on the move. He's making plans for something."_

"When?"

"_I don't know. I'm not on the task force, remember. This is just what I've gleaned. Something happened in the last couple of hours."_

"What are you doing at NIU right now?"

"_Being the good double agent and sniffing around."_

"Well, don't get caught. We need living bodies, not dead martyrs."

"_No fear. I have no intention of giving my life to this cause. I'd much rather live for it than die for it."_

The librarian laughed. It was so refreshing to have someone like him on his side.

"You find anything, you let me know."

"_Will do."_

"And watch your back, okay?"

"_I have you as my model...of what not to do."_

The librarian chuckled again. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

"_Oh, better get going. I'll let you know when I know."_

"Do that."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Something's in the wind. You ready?"_

"I'm in place."

"_Be ready for anything."_

"Understood."

Kate Todd disconnected her call and tried to calm her nerves. A nervous agent was a dead agent in this place. Sub Hague, the seat of global power. Every member of the Hegemony met here on a regular basis. As the SS Hegemon's protection detail, she was expected to be totally in control...of everything.

"Kate, get in position."

"Already there, sir."

The full Hegemony stepped out of the meeting hall and she took up a flanking position behind the SS Hegemon. Doing her job just as efficiently as usual.

No one could know that she was secretly placed to take part in a coup.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim snuck downstairs early Monday morning, not wanting to see Ducky, not wanting to address the things he'd said which he knew had been wrong. It was easier just to avoid it and bank on Ducky not saying anything at all.

"Tim, you're up early."

The voice startled him.

"Jimmy...so are you."

"I couldn't sleep."

"I have to go to work."

"Why?"

Tim didn't know how to answer that question...because it should be obvious but it wasn't.

"I have some...things to do," he said.

"What's wrong with you, Tim?" Jimmy asked, giving him a disconcerting stare.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I don't understand how you can live like you do," he said. "You keep pushing everyone away. It's like you wish people didn't even exist."

"That's not true."

"Then, why do you avoid everyone? I heard you yelling at Uncle Don."

Tim didn't answer.

Jimmy shrugged. "Uncle Don's done a _lot_ for me...but I think it's probably nothing to what he must have done for you."

"I have to go," Tim said and brushed past Jimmy.

He almost reached the front door when, again, he heard a voice from behind him.

"Timothy, off to work so early?"

"Yes, Ducky. I have to go."

"I understand, but wait a moment, lad."

Tim opened the door but waited.

Ducky came up behind him and slowly turned him around.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday or Saturday night. You did very well."

"Thanks." Tim turned to leave again, but with Ducky's hand on his shoulder, he couldn't make himself go.

"That's not all I want to say."

"What?"

"People are better than you think they are, Timothy. ..._you_ are better than you think you are."

Tim looked at Ducky for just a moment and then turned back toward the open door.

"That's where you're wrong, Ducky. I'm not better than I think I am. I'm worse. Good-bye."

Ducky loosened his hold and Tim walked away.

"See you tonight, lad."

He couldn't find the will to respond and so he just kept walking.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva squared her shoulders and strode into NIU Headquarters.

"How can I help you?" the man at the desk asked.

"You can point me to the task force assigned to find Thom the Gem. My name is Ziva David and I am with Mossad."

"Hey, Gary, I'll take her up. You don't need to ring for Kort to come down."

Ziva turned and saw a tall NIU agent, older than she but not by a significant number of years.

"Sure, go ahead, Stan."

"Stan Burley," he said, sticking out his hand, smiling congenially.

"Ziva David," Ziva replied, shaking his hand firmly. "You are part of this task force, Agent Burley?" She was skeptical. He just didn't seem to fit.

"Me? Oh, no. It's just that people have to be escorted to the inner sanctum. No unannounced visitors and all." He pointed to the elevator. "Right this way, Officer David."

"Thank you."

"So...you're Mossad, huh. We don't get many of you over in this neck of the woods."

"Yes, I am Mossad."

"What brings you here, then?"

Ziva was a little suspicious of his friendliness, but there was nothing more than simple curiosity in his gaze.

"I have information for them," she said, finally.

"You've singlehandedly found the elusive Thom, have you?"

She didn't answer. He didn't seem to take the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

"Well, if you have, you'll have earned Kort's undying love and affection...until he doesn't need you anymore anyway."

"You do not like Agent Kort?" she asked, noting his tone.

"Not particularly, but no one does, really."

"He is a bad agent?"

"No." Stan refused to elaborate and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.

Stan led her off the elevator and down the hall.

"Right through there, Officer David. ...and whatever you do in there, watch your back."

Ziva cocked her head in surprise. "Do you think I will be attacked in NIU Headquarters?"

Stan's smile was more than a little cynical. "In this place, if you don't watch your back, you might just discover a knife in it." Then, he turned and walked away.

Ziva watched him go and then opened the door and stepped into the room.

"I am looking for Trent Kort," she said in a slightly raised voice.

All sound in the room faded.

"I'm Trent Kort."

Ziva followed the voice to an intent, almost frightening, man. His expression was one that said she didn't want to be on his bad side.

"I have information on the identity of Thom the Gem. Would you like to hear it?"

You could have heard a pin drop, the room was so quiet.

"Right this way...what was your name?"

"Ziva David."

"Ah, the daughter of the Mossad director."

"Yes."

"Come into my office then, Officer David."

Ziva did so...but only reluctantly. She trusted Kort about as far as she could throw him. Granted, she could probably throw him a fair distance...but even so...it wasn't far enough.

"You know how to make an entrance."

"I wanted to get your attention quickly and one cannot do that by being timid."

"True. Now, what is this information?"

"First, what will happen when I give you this information?"

"We'll go over it. If it has merit, we'll arrest the person you identify."

"And then?"

Kort gave a sly smile. "Oh, I see. You want to know how Mossad will figure in this transaction since you can't, officially, arrest an SS citizen without a mandate from the Hegemon."

"Something like that, yes."

"I see no reason to cut Mossad out entirely. If you're correct, there will be plenty of credit to go around."

"What about Thom himself?"

"We'll want to interrogate him, obviously. You're saying that Mossad wants the same privilege?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure we can come to an agreement on that as long as you will allow us to have him first."

Ziva nearly backed out of her plan. She now feared for what would happen to Ducky in this man's hands...hands she suspected were already quite bloody. ...but she couldn't stop now. She had chosen her course and had to see it through

"Very well."

"Good. Whom do you suspect?"

"A local anatomist. Donald Mallard."

There was a slight flicker in Kort's expression.

"Really. Why, pray tell?"

"One of the significant things about Thom's work is that he seems to have access to large amounts of statistical information. Someone of D...Dr. Mallard's renown would have access to that type of data. I have met him in the last few days and he has the knowledge of the human race required to write such inspirational words as he does. He is well-educated. He is wealthy and would have the ability to hire someone to disseminate his material for him."

"That is all circumstantial."

"Yes, it is. He has means, motive and opportunity...grounds for arrest."

"Means and opportunity, yes, but what is his motive?"

"His sister and her husband and son were killed two years ago trying to reach the surface. Ten years ago, about the time Thom began writing, he managed to get Tim McGee out of MIT after a suicide attempt. He is Tim McGee's guardian after the death of McGee's family in the Sub Salt flood. He has plenty of reasons to resent the Hegemony."

"You are willing to stake your reputation on this evidence you present?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I believe I am correct...and if I sit back and do nothing, I will never find out. Sometimes, one must take risks."

"I agree. In fact, I have also been leaning toward the good doctor. Our search cleared him but there were enough anomalies that I looked deeper."

"Why have you done nothing?"

"I've been greasing the wheels, waiting for the perfect moment."

"What is your verdict?" Ziva asked.

"If you're willing to risk it, then so am I. It will be a joint mission. In fact, you will come with me to make the arrest." It wasn't a request or even an offer. It was an order.

Ziva inwardly balked at that. She didn't want Ducky...or Tim...to know that this was due to her. Then, she sternly told herself that she was being silly. Tim knew what she was doing here.

Thom the Gem was dangerous. He needed to be stopped before he destabilized the whole world.

She told herself that...but as they prepared to leave, she remained unconvinced.

It took all her willpower not to warn Ducky that they were coming for him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Tim, you must have got here very early."

Tim smiled at the librarian. "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to get a few things done before we opened."

"You angling to take over my job?"

"Not while you're alive."

The librarian laughed and headed for the front desk. Tim looked back at the pile of pages in his hands. He was done organizing it. Now, he would have to make sure it got sent out. Tonight. Yes.

After putting them away, he began to wheel the cart to the back of the library. A lot of people had returned books overnight and Tim had done nothing on Sunday.

His wristband beeped quietly at him, signaling a call from Ducky. Tim sighed but he knew he couldn't ignore it. Sometimes, he just wished that Ducky would give up on him and let him go on as best he could.

"What is it, Ducky?"

"_It's not Ducky, Tim. It's Jimmy."_

"What?" Tim asked, feeling a faint tendril of dread curling in his gut.

"_They're arresting Uncle Don!"_

"What? Who? Why?" Tim was floored. Why would Ducky be arrested? He never did anything wrong.

"_I heard them from the basement. They think he's Thom the Gem!"_

Tim's vision tunneled and for a moment, all he could hear was the roaring in his ears. The books he'd been in the process of shelving tumbled to the floor as he staggered against the cart and knocked it over.

"What? No!"

"_I know. It's not possible, but they think it's true...and you know what will happen when they take him. We'll never see him again, even if he's proven innocent!"_

Tim's mind was whirling, filled with too many thoughts, too many moments, too much.

"_Timothy, it's Ducky. You can let Sarah go now. We're here to get you both out."_

"_I promised I wouldn't let her fall."_

"_And you didn't, lad. Come on."_

One small part of him was actually considering the merits of letting this happen. If Ducky were taken as Thom the Gem, he would be able to operate much more freely because they wouldn't know where else to start.

_In fury, Tim's hand clenched into a tight fist and he swung it, feeling a deep raging satisfaction at punching Ducky in the face, watching Ducky stagger backwards against the counter, letting him feel all the hurt that he felt every second._

"_Timothy, what happened?" Ducky's reaction wasn't one of responding anger. It was fear...and concern. Concern for his ward. Tim's walls came down for a moment and he began to scream._

In revulsion, Tim forced that thought away. He could no more let Ducky take the fall for him that he could have let Sarah...than he could let any innocent person take the blame for what he had done. It was impossible. He wouldn't allow it.

"_What are we going to do, Tim?"_ Jimmy asked, pleading for help. _"If they see me...it will be even worse because I'm supposed to be dead! What do we do?"_

"I'll stop them, Jimmy. I'll stop them," Tim said and he began to walk, tripping over the books littering the floor but for once ignoring them. He had to get to his private terminal.

"_How? You're at the library."_

"I can do it."

"_Even if you can...what good will that do? They'll still think Uncle Don is Thom...and he can't be!"_

"He's not," Tim agreed and almost felt like he couldn't breathe, so tight was the feeling in his chest. "He's not...and they'll stop if they have the real Thom."

"_Yeah, but..."_

Tim ran past the librarian who must have realized something was wrong but had the sense not to say anything.

"Jimmy, you remember how you said you had all those questions that you wanted to ask Thom?"

"_Yeah."_

"Well, you were right. Those are very..._very_ important questions, ones that I do need to answer. ...and I promise...I _swear_ that I am willing to die for the cause I've been promoting."

"_You're...willing...Tim?"_

"I don't want anyone to die for me, Jimmy. ...and I won't let Ducky be punished for what I've been doing. I'll stop them...and let them take me." Tim hung up and threw himself at the terminal, typing at a speed he hadn't employed since he'd been in the government's control.

The transports were electronic. Had to be. The confined nature of the caverns meant that they had to keep emissions to an absolute minimum. They were electronic and they were connected with the NIU grid. Tim hacked into it in seconds, seeing more than the lines of code, seeing the links, the reality of the digital world. He wandered through it as if he was the ruler of it. No area was closed off to him and he could hack into whatever section he wanted.

He wanted the transport system. Once he got in there, he found the one located at Ducky's house. It was easy enough. In fact, there were _two_ transports there. With a single stroke, he shut them both down and then keyed in the restart code to his wristband. They didn't know it, but they were at _his_ mercy for the moment.

He was nearly panting with fear. The walls were coming down and he couldn't hold back the emotions he had so desperately shunned for so much of his life. It took every ounce of strength he had to control his thoughts, keep them focused on saving Ducky. He couldn't think about what was going to happen to _him _once he was arrested. If he did that, he was sure that he'd lose total control of himself and wouldn't be able to do what he needed to do to save Ducky.

Tasks completed, he shut down...and _locked_ down his terminal. No one would get into it without his say so...and he wouldn't. Then, he turned and started to run for the entrance. Having the transports shut down would delay them, but it wasn't a permanent solution. He had to get there and be arrested himself before they'd let Ducky go.

"Tim!"

The voice brought him to an abrupt halt.

"I don't have time to talk right now," Tim said, desperately. "I have to go. ...and actually, you're probably going to need to find someone else to work here. I don't...don't think I'll be back."

The librarian was looking more serious (and weirdly, younger) than Tim had ever seen him.

"Tim, listen to me for just a moment."

"What?"

"You ever have a need...or any of your friends. You can come to the library. You can be safe here. Any time. Remember that. Now...go off and do whatever you need to do."

Tim stared at him and was surprised when the librarian winked at him and jerked his head toward the door. But he didn't have time to think about the implications of what he had said. He just had to go...and go he did. He ran through the streets of Mammoth having mentally computed that it would take more time to go up, wait for the tram, ride it and get back down than it would just to run as fast as he could to Ducky's house.

He just prayed that he'd make it in time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The librarian watched Tim leave and then began making calls.

"_Is it time?"_ Kate's voice was eager...and nervous.

"No. We're putting it off. Thom the Gem is about to be arrested. We have to wait."

"_Why? I thought we were using his campaign to help our own."_

"Not at the expense of an innocent human being," the librarian said severely. "This movement isn't about wasting lives. It's about saving them. The only reason for the coup is to stop the destruction of the human race. Thom the Gem believes it's about getting to the surface. We believe it's about taking down the government. Either way, we don't have the right to benefit from his destruction. We're going to lie low for a couple of days and see how things pan out."

"_All right. I have to admit that I'm getting scared of being found out."_

"I understand that, Agent Todd, but you have to be patient. I've been waiting twenty years for this. Surely you can wait two more days."

He heard the rueful laugh and knew she had accepted it. It was hard to back down when it had been built up so much, but such was the nature of uprisings. If it was to be orderly, there had to be control in the beginning.

He disconnected and made a few other calls around the city...and the world. It was important that no one jumped the gun.

Tim was Thom the Gem. It _almost_ surprised him. Almost, but not quite. Tim had too much bound up inside him to take the oppression they all suffered with any degree of equanimity. His coldness in life was compensation for his fire on the printed page. He smiled sadly. He had gone off to be arrested. He was the one who was an inspiration to follow. This coup was inspired by his courage. They may not agree on the solution to the problem but they were both doing what they could to fix it in their own ways.

He hoped that Tim would make it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was trying very hard to look on his current situation as salvageable...although he wasn't sure how that was possible. He'd never been cuffed before and he had no desire to repeat the experience. He just couldn't believe it was happening really...so it was much better to watch the NIU agents curse and swear at their transports which had unaccountably shut down.

"Get another one here to replace these two!" Kort shouted at one of the other agents.

"I'm working on it...communications seem to be down as well."

Kort turned on Ducky. "What did you do, old man?"

"Nothing...and that refers to your charges against me _and_ to the inoperability of your transports."

Infuriated, Kort shoved him roughly and without his hands to catch himself, Ducky landed hard on the ground. Ziva moved to him and helped him sit up, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Thank you for your assistance, Officer David."

She didn't respond. He was surprised at how ashamed she seemed to be of what was happening.

"Let him go!"

The voice was one he recognized...but the anguish he heard in it was such that he almost didn't believe it. On his knees, he leaned around Ziva and saw Tim running down the street, looking as though he had run all the way from the library at top speed.

"I said let him go! You're wrong! You've got the wrong person!" he shouted.

"Timothy, it's all right," Ducky said, recognizing that Tim was _not_ currently in control of himself as he usually was. In fact, incredibly, he seemed...emotional.

"No, Ducky," he said, panting heavily and massaging at a stitch in his side. "No. You have to let him go!"

"He's under arrest for sedition," Kort said.

"He's not guilty of that!" Tim shouted.

"Timothy, calm down."

"Let...him...go. He's not Thom the Gem." Tears began pouring down Tim's face as he looked at Ducky.

Ducky suddenly knew what he was going to say before he said it...and he wished he could stop Tim from speaking but knew it would be as impossible as holding back the flood waters that had consumed Sub Salt.

"_I'm _Thom! I'm Thom the Gem! I'm the one guilty of sedition and treason!" He was still gasping for breath, but it seemed as much because of fear as anything else.

At Ducky's side, Ziva suddenly rose to her feet and Ducky chanced a glance at her face. She seemed stunned.

"I can give you the details of every publication for the last ten years! I can recite every word I've written and published since I started!"

Ducky was shocked himself, but it wasn't at the knowledge that Tim was the subversive revolutionary. It was that he was displaying such a lack of control of himself and of his emotions. He was letting them out for the first time since Sarah had died...and for the first time since his breakdown at MIT.

"Let him go!" Tim shouted again. "Let him go or..."

"Timothy, no," Ducky said, understanding just how far Tim was willing to go to secure his freedom. He struggled to his feet. "No, Timothy."

"They have to let you go, Ducky. They have to!"

"Not at this expense. I will not allow you to kill for me."

Tim was unarmed...at least to the NIU agents, but for some reason, they recognized the danger in Tim's stance. Ducky, for his part, knew that there was a lot more danger in the fact that Tim was wearing a wristband than in anything his fists could do.

"Let him go," Tim said again. "I mean it. Let him go."

"Timothy, stand down."

"I won't let them blame you for what I did, Ducky," Tim said. Almost sobbing, he shook his head. "I won't...let them take away the..." He stopped and swallowed. "I won't let them take away the last member of my family. Everyone else is dead. I won't let you die for me...not when you're not at fault." He wiped away his tears and looked fiercely at the NIU agents. "I am surrendering...but you have to let him go!"

Kort looked at Tim for a long moment, obviously weighing whether or not it was worth seeing just what Tim thought he could do...and decided it wasn't worth it. He nodded to Ziva who gladly removed Ducky's cuffs.

"Tim McGee, you are under arrest for the grave crimes of sedition and treason, of attempting to overthrow our leaders and destabilize the government." He nodded to Ziva to replace the cuffs on Tim. She approached and saw that the emotion was almost entirely gone in the face of this next step...except for his eyes. He was terrified...and she couldn't look in his eyes for very long.

Ducky stood, unsure of what to do for a moment, but then, he put his brain back in gear. He couldn't do _anything_ that might render Tim's sacrifice a waste...for sacrifice it most definitely was. Tim was giving up his life for Ducky, and such a debt could not be paid by reckless actions.

"May I...speak with him...just for a moment?" Ducky asked, looking at them all in turn, hoping for one sympathetic face. Interestingly, he found it in the expression of Ziva David.

"Yes, you may," she said before Kort could reject the request.

Ducky stumbled across the space between them and hugged Tim tightly, feeling Tim's trembling. He was so very afraid.

"Oh, Timothy...of all the times you could pick to..."

"I'm so sorry, Ducky," Tim said in a rough whisper. "I thought I was being so careful, that no one else would come under suspicion. ...and I'm so...I'm so sorry for how I treated you all these years."

"It doesn't matter, lad. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. I've been trying to pretend that I didn't care because...because I was so afraid of losing someone else. You've been my family, Ducky, for so many years...and I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before how much it meant that you were there...for me and for Sarah. I'm sorry."

Under Ducky's arms, he felt Tim shift a little bit and over his shoulder, he saw Tim type a few letters into his wristband. Suddenly, the transports came back on. Ducky pulled back and looked Tim in the eye.

He actually smiled a bit mischievously. "I had to stop them from taking you...and I can only run so fast."

Ducky hugged him one more time, afraid it would be the last. "You are a wonderful man, Timothy McGee. I didn't need you to tell me anything. It was my privilege to be your guardian. I'm only sorry it has to end...and in this way."

"Come on! Time to go!"

Rough hands pulled Tim away toward the transports and Ducky watched as they loaded Tim in and drove off. Ziva lingered for a moment.

"I am sorry, Dr. Mallard. It must be a shock," she said.

"You think so?" Ducky asked, staring after the disappearing transport which carried a man he thought of as his son. "You don't know Timothy very well, then. He could have killed every man here if he had wished to and he didn't. He could have called for a bloody revolution and got it. He didn't. No, my dear, all that shocks me is that the NIU could think that I had the strength needed to carry out a decade-long attempt to open the eyes of the people in this place. If you really knew Timothy, you would never have thought that _I_ was Thom. What you have done here today is not stopped a revolutionary. You have not only destroyed a good man but you have also brought mankind one step closer to extinction. Timothy is not the only one who has seen those statistics." He turned and walked away.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

They dragged Tim into one of their circular interrogation rooms. There was a chair in the center which had straps to keep him in place. They could stand anywhere and ask questions. It was quite the setup. Tim had only read about these places before. It was frightening to be in one for real...but he didn't show it.

The door opened and closed behind him. Tim was securely in place.

"Tim McGee. Thom the Gem. Similar names but not quite. Where did you get your nom de plume from?"

"You mean, from where did I get it," Tim said. "You're not supposed to end sentences with a preposition."

Kort walked around so that Tim could see him. He held a small device in his hand. He pointed it at Tim's chest and fired.

Tim instantly felt as though the skin on his chest was burning...but he didn't react beyond tensing in the chair. After a few seconds, Kort let his hand fall to the side. The pain disappeared.

"It's an ADS...makes use of microwaves, about a millimeter in width. I ask you a question and you answer it. That will keep me from using it again. Understand?"

Tim nodded.

"Where did your pen name come from?"

"My name."

"How?"

Tim almost sneered. "Simple. My name is Tim McGee. Ducky always called me Timothy. An anagram of Timothy McGee is Thom E. Gemcity. I figured an anagram would be too obvious. I dropped the city and the E and made it into a title as much as a name. Thom the Gem."

"Clever."

"Obviously. It worked on everyone here, didn't it?"

Again, Kort raised his hand, this time pointing it at Tim's thigh. The burning pain lasted longer this time.

"Sarcasm is such an ugly trait, Mr. McGee." He dropped his hand. "Who else is working with you?"

"No one."

"An answer...but obviously a lie. Who else is working with you?"

"No one. I worked by myself."

Kort again raised his hand. "Unacceptable."

It felt as though his skin was on fire. Kort drew the small device in a long line across Tim's torso.

"I worked alone!"

"Impossible. Who helped you?"

"No one!"

"I have nothing else to do, Mr. McGee. You have been the focus of everything for the last five years. Now that I have you, you are my only responsibility. I can keep this up for a very long time."

"I wasn't working with anyone!"

Kort did not drop his hand.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky sat at his kitchen table, holding Sarah's doll in his hands, unaware he'd even picked it up. If he didn't know the details of what would be done to Tim, he knew the basics. Tim would never see the light of day again. He would be subjected to lengthy and probably painful interrogations. He would be imprisoned and, finally, after a long time, he would be killed...executed. No matter his guilt or innocence, that would be the order of affairs. With Ziva being there, being from Israel, being Mossad, there was the possibility of Tim being taken with her at some point. Regardless, Tim's ultimate fate was death...and the road to that fate would be horrible.

...and that was unacceptable.

"Uncle Don?"

Ducky looked up, almost forgetting that Jimmy would be there.

"Yes, Jimmy. What is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for, lad?"

"I called Tim. I told him they were taking you. I didn't know what to do." Jimmy looked ashamed.

"Not your fault. It was something that would have had to happen at some point. ...and Timothy would never have forgiven himself had I been taken away...even though I would have gone willingly enough."

"What happens now?"

Ducky stared at the doll he was holding.

"Now...now, I will follow the advice your mother always tried to give me. Advice I never accepted and never agreed with. Now, I will be more about action than talk." He held the doll tightly in his hands and stood up. "You must remain here for now, Jimmy, but I promise that you will not be left out of this."

"What is this?"

Ducky smiled. "Something incredibly dangerous and illegal."

Jimmy pondered on that for a moment. Then, he nodded. "We should use code names."

In spite of the situation, Ducky laughed. "If I can get what I need, I will certainly consider it. Be ready, my lad. Things could go badly very quickly."

"Story of my life, Uncle Don."

Ducky clapped a hand on his back. "That's not necessarily a bad thing I'm finding. I just need to pack a few things and then I will go to set my plan in motion. Stay safe, Jimmy. Perhaps things will work out after all."

"I hope so."

"As do I. Hope is what keeps us alive in times like these."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They dragged him into his luxurious cell and tossed him on the cot. The pain from the ADS had stopped almost instantly when Kort had turned it off, but his body was tingling from the microwaves which had hit him for so long. It made it hard to walk. He sighed with relief at being in the cell rather than in the room. He couldn't figure out why they insisted on believing he was lying. He wasn't. Why was it so hard to believe that someone trained by _them_ would be able to do what he did?

"Are you all right, Tim?"

Tim forced himself to sit up and face Ziva. He laughed. "Am I all right?"

"Yes. I saw the interrogation."

"I'm sure you did. No, Ziva. I'm not all right. I've been tortured for the last few hours and asked questions. Would _you_ be all right?"

"I suppose not."

"It's funny because you keep thinking that pain is enough to make me talk. I'm not sure why that is. I'm already telling the truth, but physical pain is supposed to make me more willing? I can't tell you more than I already have...and I've felt more pain than a few burns could possibly provide...so the torture isn't really helping." He paused. "You guys didn't arrest Ducky after they took me away, did you?"

"No. There was no reason to."

"Whatever. Believe that matters if you want. How long were you planning this?"

"Planning what?"

"How long did it take you to focus in on me?"

"I did not. I thought it was Ducky."

"So...how long were you planning it? How much of what you told me was an act?" It was easier now to reject the emotions he'd been feeling.

"None of it. I did not lie to you, Tim. Not once."

"I don't believe you."

"It is the truth. I have never lied to you."

"Oh, okay. That makes it all better then, doesn't it. You know what I don't understand about you people?" Tim asked.

"What?"

"I'm telling the truth. I haven't lied, but you won't believe me. ...and yet, you ask _me_ to believe _you_, when you're part of an organization that is not exactly known for its honesty."

"I believe you. Kort does not."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That makes it better, does it? You know what? I'm an honest person." He held up his cuffed hands. "These cuffs? I don't need them. You could unlock the door to this cell and I wouldn't leave. Do you know that I have already found ten different ways I can break out of here? I won't use a single one. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I won't bring any more trouble down on Ducky. I know that if I escape, he'll be the first one to suffer for it." He lay back down and willed away the tingling sensations.

"Would those ten different ways be successful?"

Tim sighed. "Yes. There's no point in plotting an escape if it won't be successful. I was _trained_ to think like this. Everything is a puzzle to be worked out. ...and every puzzle has at least one solution. You have to find it or suffer the consequences. So...I can find ten different ways to get out...and survive the attempt." He closed his eyes. "You don't believe me do you."

"I am...skeptical."

"Of course you are. I'm beginning to think that the more dishonest a group is, the less that group will trust others to tell the truth. Let me give you an example, Officer David." Tim sat up and held out his arms. "These cuffs are electronic...as is the door to the cell." He maneuvered his hands around and began to type into his wristband. In a few seconds, the cuffs fell off.

"How did you do that?"

Tim only smiled and walked over to the door of the cell.

"I promise that I'm not going to leave. Don't kill me when I open the door."

"I will not kill you."

Tim held the deactivated cuffs up to the locking mechanism and began to pull out the wires from the joints of the cuffs. "In order to open the door, the current has to be interrupted for a significant period of time...or it has to be overloaded. The cuffs carry more than enough." He hooked the wires to the lock and then typed into his wristband once more. "I'd stand back, Officer David."

Ziva looked at him in surprise but obeyed. There was a bright flash and the door slid open. Tim stood in the open space with a sardonic smile. "You see?"

"You have not yet escaped."

Tim turned around and walked back to the cot, sinking down on it gratefully. The tingling hadn't gone away just yet.

"I'll keep some of my secrets, Officer David. You can keep yours. Now, I think I'd better get some rest before the next round of stupid questions commences."

There was a long silence. Tim didn't look at her, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling.

"I told you I would not fail. I told you I would catch Thom."

"You did fail," Tim said.

"You are here."

"Not because of you. _You_ arrested the wrong man. Whether you were doing it to flush me out or whether you really believed it was Ducky, you still didn't succeed. _I_ am the one who is ultimately credited with the capture of Thom the Gem. If I were the kind of person the NIU thinks I am, I would have let Ducky rot in prison...but I could no more do that than I could kill him. You failed, Officer David."

"Tim...I..."

"Please, Ziva. Don't pretend you regret this. No one was holding a gun to your head. You made your decision...and I am suffering the consequences. Please, don't insult me by apologizing for it."

She closed the door and walked away. Tim wondered how long it would take for them to come and break the wristband off. It was supposed to be a permanent thing, until death did you part, a way to track people's whereabouts and a general communication device, but it _could_ be removed and where he had just demonstrated how well he could use it, he figured they wouldn't leave it on him for much longer. Not that it mattered.

He had no intention of escaping. He had not lied, not to Ziva...not to Kort.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky made his way carefully through the streets of Mammoth. He couldn't afford to be taken now. Not now that he was making such an effort _not_ to be taken. He figured that even with Tim affirmation that he wasn't involved, he wouldn't have much time to do what he wanted to do. He didn't take the tram. Instead, he walked toward his destination. Every so often, he stopped and looked up, staring until he could just barely discern the roof of the cavern through the gloom. He knew what was contained in the pages of Tim's works. His sister had told him more than once about these things. He had always brushed her off because he did not want to be the one to make dangerous waves...and all the while Tim had been the source of those waves.

If it weren't for how serious this was becoming...how serious it already was, he could almost laugh at the way things had fallen out. Now, however, he had a task to take up. The problem was that he knew he couldn't do it himself. He was pushing seventy (or was it _pulling_ seventy?) and not as young as he once was. That meant that he needed help. Unfortunately, there were few people he knew who were in a position to help him with this extremely illegal task.

Which was what brought him to a door he'd never knocked on in his whole life. He did not hesitate but committed himself to a dangerous course of action and knocked on the door.

There was no sound for a few seconds...and then there was a shuffling on the other side. No one opened the door. He knocked again...and again waited.

Finally, the door opened.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs looked past him into the empty street.

"Dr. Mallard...what brings you here?"

"May I come inside to explain?"

Gibbs stood aside, allowing Ducky to enter, and then closed and locked the door behind him.

"What brings you here, Ducky?"

Ducky set down his rather bulky bag.

"I am taking a rather large risk by coming here, Agent Gibbs...but I do not feel my trust in you is misplaced."

"What is it?"

"I need your help, Agent Gibbs."

"For what?"

"To break Timothy out of prison."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_There was a man who lived before the Descent. He gave a speech. His words were so eloquent that people listened, people cheered. There are videos of a packed square, thousands of people all there to hear him speak. I don't have that ability. I'm not someone who can speak words that will stir the blood. My medium is the printed page. ...but like that man so long ago, I have a dream of a better world. Let me tell you my dream._

_My dream is that one day, I will walk through tunnels carved by millennia rather than by sonic cutters. I will walk through those tunnels and I will climb up and out. I will climb into the sunlight...and I will be on the surface. I will see and I will know. I have this dream, this vision so clearly burned into my mind that I know it is possible. I _know_ that it can happen. I want it for me. I want it for you. _

_I want us all to be able to make the choice. That is my dream, my vision._

_I don't want to take over the world. I don't want to become a leader, a politician. I want to help you to see...like those who have left the cave and been taken into the sun as an ancient philosopher described. The allegory of the cave is not one that is taught in schools now for very good reason. The cave is the lack of education, the separation from reality. The coming to the surface is education, the way to happiness, the way to real life. I want to show you how much better life could be than it is now._

_I want to give you freedom._

Ziva reached out and turned off the display, hiding her face from the blank screen as if it was condemning her as surely as Tim had, as surely as Ducky had. It was a condemnation she had soundly deserved. She had watched the interrogation. She had recognized that Tim was being honest...and she could see now that Kort knew it, too. He didn't care about right and wrong. This was punishment because Tim could never be allowed to go to trial, could never be given such a platform for his cause. There would be no official punishment...just this until he died.

She saw now just what she had done. Now...and it was so very late in the game for her to realize how wrong she had been. It was too late _not_ to do it. It was too late to stop it from happening. It was too late to change her path. Tim saw that much more clearly than she had. What else could she do?

For once, Ziva David, who always knew exactly what to do, who never needed help doing it, _didn't _know. The image she kept seeing in her mind was Tim, his expression when he had realized that she wasn't Sarah...that all-too-human despair that had suffused his face for an instant before being replaced by a mask that hid who he really was.

"What do I do now?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They started on him again during the night...but it was different this time. This time, they injected him with some unidentified drug and then began asking him the same questions. Tim answered them in the same way he had before. He wasn't going to lie just because they thought he wasn't telling the truth.

The cramps and pain in his abdomen began about an hour into the interrogation. They were tolerable but they didn't go away. Every few minutes, his stomach would cramp up and he would have to breathe more heavily until the pain passed.

The questions continued...for _hours_ they asked the same questions over and over again and Tim gave the same answers over and over...even as the cramps got worse, more frequent. They just wouldn't believe that he was telling the truth.

Finally, Kort leaned forward and looked into Tim's eyes.

He made a _tsk_-ing sound. "Ah, Mr. McGee. The longer you hold out, the worse it will get."

"I'm telling you the truth! I did everything on my own. I didn't _need_..." Another cramp interrupted him. "...need anyone else to help me."

"I'd imagine you look a lot like your sister did, wouldn't you say?"

Tim looked up at him in confusion.

"She was tortured...just like this. Didn't they tell you that?" At Tim's blank stare, Kort laughed derisively. "Now, I'll admit I was suspecting Dr. Mallard at the time, but it came to the same result."

"What are you saying?"

"What do you think I'm saying, Mr. McGee? Too bad about her body getting a bit mutilated, though...isn't it?"

Kort was gloating, leaning in just close enough that when Tim understood what he meant, he was able to ram his head into Kort's nose, causing him to fall backward.

"You killed my sister! You killed..."Another cramp halted Tim's words but he breathed through it. "You killed Sarah!" He pulled against the restraints for the first time, filled with blind fury. "You killed her!" He shouted and strained to get at Kort even though he knew he hadn't a chance of freeing himself from the chair. They had taken his wristband away as he had guessed they would. He wasn't thinking logically. He was full of the kind of murderous rage that blinds one to all rational thought.

Kort got back to his feet, bleeding from his nose. For the first time, _he_ looked angry. He stalked forward and punched Tim in the face.

"Now, we're even."

"Not even close," Tim whispered, as black spots danced in front of his eyes. "You killed my family. The only way we'll be even is for me to kill..." The cramp took him by surprise with its severity.

"Luckily for me, you don't have that much time, Mr. McGee. If you die in custody...well, that's an unfortunate event and no one will be crying many tears over it. After all, no one knows who you are. All that will happen is that Thom's words will cease. He'll be forgotten...and you'll be dead."

"I'll..." He couldn't hold back a moan that time. "...I'll kill you before I die."

Kort laughed at him. "No, you won't...because even before you die, you'll be in such agony that you won't be able to breathe, let alone kill. Your life is over, Mr. McGee. You might as well tell me everything."

Tim was ready to tell him where to go and how to get there when another cramp took over his speak and left him retching a little.

Kort laughed again. "I think we'll give you some time...to think about it." He gestured and the door opened. Two men came in and released him from the chair. Tim tried to pull away from them but was struck down by another wave of pain, forcing the agents to drag him out of the room and return him to his cell. They dropped him on the floor and left him there.

After the pain ebbed, Tim dragged himself back onto the cot, wrapped his hands around his abdomen and prepared for a long period of ever-increasing pain.

_I wish Ducky was here,_ he thought to himself, aware that Ducky had _always_ been there for him...and that this was the first time when he knew he couldn't depend on anyone for help. He had always considered himself to be operating alone...but he never had. He had always had Ducky. Not anymore. Now, he really did have no one. All he had was the pain.

Then, to his surprise, a song came to his mind. In between surges of pain, he sang...haltingly, softly.

"_The long and winding road  
__That leads to your door  
__Will never disappear  
__I've seen that road before  
__It always leads me here  
__Leads me to your door..."_

No one heard him in NIU Headquarters...and in spite of the pain, after a few hours, Tim fell into a fitful sleep, broken by the continual jabs of pain.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Gibbs brought Ducky down to the basement, Tony and Abby were shocked at his presence. However, if Tony and Abby were shocked at Ducky's request, they didn't show it. They _were _worried about actually being able to do what he wanted to do.

"Okay, now, I know I'm not usually the logical one in this group," Tony said, "but this is crazy. Break McGee out of the NIU? We'd need...we'd need someone like _him_ in order to do that."

Abby straightened. "That, Tony, I think is the most brilliant thing you've ever said in your life."

Tony furrowed his brow. "What's so brilliant? I'd like to know so that I can mark it down in my journal."

"We need someone like Tim. We need...a genius."

"And where are _we_ going to get one of those? We don't have authorization for that."

Gibbs smiled. "But we _do_ have authorization to investigate anything leading to the apprehension of Sarah McGee's killer. That includes anyone who facilitate the murder."

"We've already agreed that accusing Kort will be like suicide."

Ducky interrupted for the first time since they had begun discussing the idea. "Kort? You mean the agent who arrested me? He killed Sarah?"

"From what we can tell. He certainly authorized the shorting out of the wristbands when she was taken. At the very least, he instigated it."

Ducky sat back and considered that piece of information for a long while in silence. Then, he leaned forward once more.

"I can think of a few things I would like to say about that monster, but there is a lady present. What were you saying before this rather shocking revelation?"

Abby smiled at the implication that she was a lady but didn't comment.

"We need someone who can really use the NIU grid. I'm good but I'm not good enough to control all the cameras and doors in the building...and we'll have to in order to get in, get Tim and get out again."

"Yeah, I'm assuming we want to _survive_ this crazy scheme?"

"Probably."

"Can you get into one of these poor souls during the night?" Ducky asked. "I don't believe we should try to get Timothy out during the daylight."

"We can get in any time we need to," Gibbs said. "All we have to do is tell them what we want and why we want it. They won't question a criminal investigation."

"Okay...so once we have this link, what next?"

"We go in and get him out."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The librarian sat anxiously at his desk, waiting for a call. He'd closed the library early the day before and put up a notice that it would be closed today. He wanted to be focused on the important things...like what was happening at the NIU.

His band beeped at him and he immediately connected.

"Well?"

"_Well, are you sure you want to know? You know the possibilities."_

"Just tell me."

"_Your assistant is still alive at the moment, but I get the feeling that's not a good thing. Kort's enjoying himself way too much for this to be anything but the beginning. The Mossad officer is AWOL but I'll bet she'll be coming back around sooner or later. Rumor has it that Mossad made a deal to take Tim after Kort is finished and to...put an end to everything."_

"They using the drugs?"

"_Of course, they are. That's one of the greatest innovations the NIU has ever made to the subtle art of interrogation."_ His voice was thick with sarcasm. Interrogation was what had driven him to join in the librarian's cause.

"You sure they're not planning on just letting the drugs take their course?"

"_Not positive, but that would be too quick for Kort. He's got his prey; now, he's going to play with it for a while."_

"I'll trust your judgment."

"_You want to set anything in motion?"_

"No. Not yet. Keep your ears open. I think that someone will be doing _something_ to get him out. If you see it, either look the other way or help them."

"_Even at the expense of my cover?"_

"Yes."

"_You're the boss."_

"Good thing, too. You'd only screw everything up. You cowboys."

"_If you didn't secretly like us, you wouldn't do it at all."_ He laughed.

"Get back to work."

"_Yes, sir."_

The librarian disconnected and pondered for a while. It just might be time to come out of hiding...and take off about twenty years. He smiled to himself and reached under the counter. When his questing fingers touched an older lever, he pulled it. A part of the floor moved, revealing a small crevice in which was...a very strange-looking device. It looked like a helmet covered in LEDs. He'd had it for twenty years and never used it once...although he'd been tempted. He'd only been in his forties when his path had been chosen for him by the NIU...when he'd been an agent there. He wondered if anyone would recognize him...actually, he wondered if he'd recognize himself.

Nothing to do but see. He pulled the helmet over his head and settled back for what would, no doubt, be an uncomfortable couple of hours.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The building beside NIU Headquarters was smaller, and the difference in its function was obvious upon the entry of the NIU team (plus Ducky). It was more like a long-term care facility. The geniuses lived and worked here. They went nowhere else.

"We need to talk to one of the residents," Gibbs said.

"Why?"

"It's part of a murder investigation. Sarah McGee, killed last week. You can look it up. The case number is–"

"Not necessary," the man at the desk said quickly. It didn't pay to antagonize NIU agents. "Which...er...resident?"

"Erin Kendall."

"Good luck."

"What do you mean?"

"She's only got a few weeks left."

"What do you mean?" Abby asked.

"She's on her last legs. Most of the geniuses here last about ten years after we get them. Their minds start to shut down and their bodies follow pretty quickly. That's where Erin is at."

"Can't you do anything to stop it?"

"No. Their abilities just don't lend themselves to long lives."

_Oh, yeah?_ That was the thought in all of their minds as they thought of Tim. Abby opened her mouth to say it, but Ducky grabbed her arm.

"We still need to speak with her."

The desk clerk shrugged and typed in her name. "She's on the second floor. Room five. Here's a list of commands that she usually responds to. There's a terminal in her room."

"What if we need to take her with us?"

Another casual shrug. "That's fine. We're not using her much for obvious reasons. I've already sent for a replacement."

"Room five, you said?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. Elevator is just around the corner."

"Thanks."

They walked away from the desk and Abby began fuming in a low voice.

"They don't lend themselves to long lives? Command codes? She's not a computer! You can't just throw her away and get a newer model!"

"Sh," Gibbs ordered. "By now, with what they've no doubt done to her, she may be more akin to a computer than a human being...but that doesn't mean we have to treat her that way."

Abby was still plainly furious but held her tongue. They took the elevator and then walked down the hall to Erin's room. When they opened the door, they saw...what was essentially a prison cell. It didn't belong to a human being. There was a bed and a computer. That was it. No pictures, no windows. It was dark. Gibbs reached out and turned on the light.

As soon as he did so, Erin's eyes opened and she sat up, looking at them.

"Hi, Erin."

"Hello," she replied, without inflection.

"We need your help. Will you come with us?"

Erin stared at Abby for a long moment. Then, she closed her eyes, her lids vibrating as her eyeballs darted back and forth. Her lips moved slightly as if she was accessing the correct response to what Abby had said. Then, her eyes opened again.

"This is a request?"

"Yes. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Out?"

"Yes."

Erin looked around her room.

"You need me."

"Yes," Abby said. "To help us save Tim."

Her head cocked to the side. "Tim McGee. Arrested for sedition. Publishing for the last ten years under the pen name of Thom the Gem. Slated for interrogation for the next two days until being sent to Israel for disposal."

It really was almost like talking to a machine. Ducky approached her slowly.

"He is very dear to us, Erin. Will you help us?"

There was a flicker of life in her eyes. "Yes. I will come with you. I will help you."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The librarian stood in front of a mirror, staring at himself. Who knew that there would be so many wrinkles still without the aged mask he had worn? Granted, he was no longer in his forties. He was in his sixties...but still. He had an image of himself that had survived two decades of hiding...but he was now sixty-five years old. What an interesting development. He wondered if anyone would actually recognize this new/old face. Carefully, he fingered the newly-revealed flesh. The surgery that had placed the mask over his features had been semi-permeable and thus had allowed for his skin to maintain integrity. It felt strange to look on these craggy features and realize that this was his real face.

He had given up his face when he had lost his whole world...and when they had attempted to take even more from him. Now, he was ready to take it back.

He smiled and watched as his lips turned up and his blue eyes twinkled.

"Bring it on."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The motley crue left the residence of geniuses and led Erin to a local private café. They were able to secure a room. Abby directed Erin to sit at the terminal and log in.

"Can you help us get into NIU Headquarters and get Tim out?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Just like that?" Tony asked in surprise.

"Yes. There are many ways in and out of NIU without being seen. I assume that is what you need as you would not need my help otherwise."

Ducky sat down beside Erin as she began to work, typing at a furious pace.

"I have secured this room and we will not be observed."

"Thanks."

She did not respond to the gratitude, nor did she react to Ducky as he began taking her vitals. When he finished, he had a look of sorrow on his face. Abby saw it but he shook his head when she began to ask what he had discovered.

"How can you get around all the doors and the cameras?" Tony asked.

Speaking as she worked, screen flashing with different lines of code, different programs, so quickly that no one could follow what she was doing, Erin began to explain.

"I can unlock every door in the NIU but you will not want that. You will want the doors unlocked that you want when you want. I will set up a rolling blackout of the cameras and will replace your actions with blank hallways and rooms. I will ensure that no one will be in Tim's cell by creating distractions. You will keep me apprised of when you are ready for each door to be opened." She suddenly brought up a schematic of the building. "This is to be your path. You will be least likely to be seen and most likely to succeed if you follow this route in..." A red line appeared. "...and this route out." A green line tracing a different route appeared. "By taking different routes, you will be better able to avoid those who may become suspicious. It is impossible to take everyone's actions into account but I can tell you who is where and I can keep others from doing that to you."

"Wow," Abby said softly. "Why would you do all this for us?"

Rather than answer, Erin began to sing in a halting voice.

_"Twinkle, twinkle little star  
How I wonder what you are.  
Up above the world so high  
Like a diamond in the sky  
Twinkle, twinkle little star  
How I wonder what you are."_

Abby looked worriedly at Erin and then up at Gibbs whose expression was more evaluating than anxious. Ducky gestured to Abby to join them all by the door.

"What, Ducky?"

"That man at the desk was correct. Her life signs are low and seem to be getting lower. There is a state which the elderly sometimes reach. It is colloquially called the 'dwindles' because the body is dwindling to nothing with no manifest cause. The body and mind are simply worn out and cannot sustain life any longer. This poor girl is in that state and she cannot be older than Timothy. The way she has been used has destroyed her. And probably had done long before you even knew of her existence. There is nothing we can do for her, Abigail, nothing except make her last days better than the years which have preceded them."

Abby sniffed loudly. "I thought Tim's story was bad."

"It was...and yes, this is worse."

Gibbs nodded and walked back to Erin who had not stopped working during their little conference.

"Erin."

"Yes."

"Can you show us _exactly_ what to do to get Tim out?"

"Yes." She began to bring up the routes and the codes again. "Would you like hard copy?"

"Oh...no. We just need to have voice contact. Can you make sure no one else will be able to listen in on our conversations?"

"Yes." A few more keystrokes. "Your bands are secure from detection."

"How much time can you give us?"

"Enough time for you to find Tim and give him time to recover from his treatment before leading him out."

"Treatment?"

"He will have been tortured. That is to be expected. The methods they use are precise and painful. The exact methods, which can range from pharmacological to crass physical, are not listed, but he will be in no state to run or even to stagger when you find him. You will have time to get him to a better state before you have to evacuate...although there will not be sufficient time for him to fully recover."

"Thank you, Erin," Gibbs said. On a long-forgotten impulse, he leaned down and kisesd the top of her head. Slowly, almost as though the sensation had been a surprise, one of Erin's hands left the keyboard and moved up to touch the place where the kiss had been given. Her eyes, reflecting the programs flashing on the screen, glistened with sudden tears. Then, the moment passed and she shifted back to the blank slate. It was much like Tim's shift from extreme emotion to blankness. It seemed that even if the emotions were more deeply buried inside Erin, they still did exist to some degree.

"You ready to go?" Gibbs asked finally.

"Ready and rarin'," Tony answered, clearing his throat.

"Abby, you stay here with Erin to relay anything we need to know, all right? We'll stop by here to pick you up after."

"It would be better to meet in a neutral location," Erin said in her usual monotone. "If you need the chance to regroup, may I suggest a park two blocks south of the NIU building? At this late hour, no one will be there...and should this area become compromised, it will not lead to a recapture."

Gibbs nodded. Then, he looked appraisingly at Ducky. "Will you be able to keep up?"

"In normal circumstances, I might be concerned, but in this case, I believe it will be _you_ and Agent DiNozzo who has the trouble of keeping up with me, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs laughed a little. "Considering we're all about to commit crimes punishable by death, maybe you should just start calling me Jethro and him Tony."

"I believe I can manage that. You may continue to call me Ducky."

"Tony, you take Ducky's bag, just in case his zeal outstrips his physical ability."

Tony bowed floridly and took the bag, looping it over his shoulders. "Ready."

"Ready, Jethro?"

"Definitely. Abbs?"

"We're ready, Gibbs," Abby said, a tremulous smile on her lips. "Be careful, guys."

"Will do."

Then, they left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why are you plotting against your government?"

It was a new question. Finally. The old questions were tiresome. Tim could barely speak a complete sentence through the pain but he tried. "You ever...read any...Plato?"

"Any what?"

"Plato...ancient...Greece." Tim panted through the worsening pains in his abdomen.

"No. I have better things to do with my time. What does this have to do with anything?"

Tim smiled through the pain. "It has..._everything_ to do with it." He gasped. "Plato's _Republic_... Book VII... the allegory of the Cave. That's why I'm...doing this...why what _you're_ doing means nothing...to me."

Kort looked at him with derision.

Tim tried to master the pain long enough to say what he wanted to say. He knew that there were people listening through the speakers, people whose minds might not yet be made up, people who might begin to think about what this condemned man had to say. If he could convince even one of them, then all this suffering would be worth it.

"A man...who is suddenly freed from his prison, from the cave where he saw only shadows and never what was real...who suddenly sees all there is to see... Plato said... 'What about when he reminds himself of his first dwelling place, his fellow prisoners, and what passed for wisdom there?'" Tim groaned. "'Don't you think that he'd count himself happy for the change and pity the others?'"

Tim lifted his head and stared, not at Kort but at the cameras all around the walls.

"'The release from bonds and the turning around from shadows to statues and the light of the fire...and...and then, the way up out of the cave to the sunlight and...the newly acquired ability to look at divine images in water and shadows of the things that are, rather than...as before...merely at shadows of statues thrown by another source of light that is itself a shadow in relation to the sun...all this...has the power to awaken the best part of the soul and lead it upward.'" He turned his gaze back on his interrogator. "_That_ is why I do what I do, Agent Kort." He couldn't stop the shaking from a pain that was nearly constant.

He was relieved when he was released from the chair and dragged back to his cell. He thought he caught glimpses of people staring at him but he couldn't be sure. The pain was too distracting. It was only when he was alone in his cell once more that he let the tears fall. He wished again he had someone to help him but there was not a single soul who could get him out of this. He just closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around his abdomen again and tried to breathe through the pain.

He'd never felt so keenly (and regretted so much) the fact that there were few people who would miss him when he was gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I don't like going through the front door," Tony said in a low voice.

"_You must put on the appearance of this being routine. No one will notice you."_

To Ducky's surprise, it happened just like Erin had said it would. They walked in, the desk clerk barely raised his head as they walked by. He didn't pay any attention as they headed to the elevator...and certainly didn't notice when they took it to the holding cells on the fourth floor, rather than to the office.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stan liked his job, always had. In the past, when he had first been hired, he had been fooled by the ideals espoused by the NIU, believing them to be genuine. Then, he had come face to face with the ugliness the ideals covered. It had come as a shock. Sitting in on an "interrogation" had opened his eyes to how easy it was to corrupt the system and how difficult it was to preserve any degree of integrity. Initially, he had considered the possibility of trying to explain things logically. He had swiftly learned the fallacy of that idea and decided that he'd have to settle for refusing to be corrupted himself and turning a blind eye to the less savory aspects. It was less than ideal, but Stan had a practical streak which kept him from engaging in any kind of activity which might be construed as revolutionary. He wasn't an inspirational speaker. He wasn't a plotter. He was a worker...and happy to remain that way.

...which was what had indirectly led him to the librarian. He had been searching for evidences of the NIU being in the wrong (hoping that he would find what he had witnessed to be an anomaly) and had stumbled upon the case of an NIU agent who had fought against his only daughter being taken for education. He and his wife had divorced and shared custody of the girl. Then, his ex-wife had died, his daughter was taken...and he had supposedly committed suicide. Stan had believed the report until he found some discrepancies in the account, until he had tracked down the agent's daughter and discovered that she occasionally received secret messages from...Daddy. After that, he had traced the messages to the old librarian and confronted him with his real identity.

...and been shocked to find out the truth of the matter...that it had been an attempted murder not a suicide, that he had been forced to hide who he was, forced to wait for years, trying to build up a strong enough coalition to take down the corrupt government and build up something better in its place.

It had taken time to get Stan to agree to join in the librarian's cause. He wasn't the kind of person who was fueled by passionate words. He wanted firm arguments...and he didn't want to be told that he had to give his life for a cause. If it had to happen in the course of things, fine, but he didn't want to be a part of a cause that _planned_ on people dying. It spoke of poor planning.

The librarian wasn't like that. He wanted his people to survive. He admitted that death was a possibility but not something he wanted. He didn't want to sacrifice anyone in order to succeed. He also wasn't doing it just to get his daughter back. He had acknowledged that there was likely nothing he could do to save her, that she was lost to him, but he could try and take down a government that would support this kind of wholesale assault on anyone cursed with high intelligence. Stan could support that.

He could and he did.

...which is why, when he caught a glimpse of three men headed toward the cell block, he turned a blind eye to them and a weather eye onto anyone who might interrupt them.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Ducky's first view of Tim inside the cell nearly tore his heart in two. His ward was lying on a cot, shaking and moaning, hardly able to breathe and obviously in extreme pain. His face was pale and he was covered in sweat, his eyes tightly closed.

"Erin, we're in the holding area," Gibbs whispered.

The lock on the cell disengaged silently and slid open. Ducky grabbed his bag from Tony's shoulder and was through the opening in an instant. When he came nearer, he could hear Tim's labored breathing and he struggled to keep himself alive through the agony that he was obviously feeling.

"Timothy," he said softly. "Can you hear me, lad?"

To his surprise, Tim started to laugh, tears falling down his cheeks.

"I must...be dreaming...because I don't think...they'd be granting me...visiting privileges."

"It's not a dream, Timothy, and I'm not visiting. We're here to get you out."

Tim's eyes opened wide as he groaned in pain again. "We?"

"Yes. We." Ducky gestured behind him.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said. "You've looked better."

"What are...are..._you_ doing here?" Tim asked, the old familiar suspicion on his face...although it was quickly wiped away by another wave of pain.

"Timothy!"

"We're here to rescue you, McGee," Tony said cheerfully. "You could try to say thanks."

Tim closed his eyes again through another painful spasm. Then, after gasping for breath, he opened them and looked at Tony for a long moment.

"I'm...I'm sorry...Agent DiNozzo..." He groaned again. "I've been having...a...a...bad...life." He tried to smile.

Ducky had never heard Tim apologize before his arrest. Not once had he tried to excuse anything he'd done. To hear him now apologizing to an NIU agent was nothing short of miraculous...but he said nothing, focusing only on getting his necessary accouterments out of his bag.

"Ah, that's okay, McGee. You're not looking so hot. ...and since we're all likely to be arrested for this, you can give up on the whole _Agent_ thing. I'm guessing this isn't going to look good on my resume."

Tim began to cry, choking on his tears as the pain continued its ebb and flow.

"No...no...you...you weren't...supposed to..." He reached out a hand to stop Ducky's preparations. "I didn't...want you in trouble...not for me. Don't...try to help...please. Just...go. Go back."

Ducky paused long enough to extricate his arm. "Timothy, I told you once, long ago, that I'd never help you die. I would only help you live. That promise still holds true. I will _not_ let you suffer like this."

"No...please, Ducky..." Tim wrapped his arms around himself again and curled into a fetal position, sobbing. "...please, just let...let me..."

"Timothy, you are naive if you think the NIU will leave me alone after they've finished with you. They will wish to tie up any loose ends. That's how they work. Remember Jimmy? He was a loose end...one they missed only through luck and intense planning. I would not be so lucky. ...and regardless, I will not trade my life for yours. Now...give me your arm."

"Why?"

"We need to determine what they have given you. A drug, correct?"

Tim nodded.

"The pain seems to be located in your abdomen."

Another nod. "...my...my...fingers and toes have...been...tingling in the...past few hours."

"Obviously, this is some sort of slow-acting poison." Ducky frowned. "Despicable."

"If so...they'll probably...give me an antidote soon. Wouldn't...w-want me to die too...quickly." Another failed attempt at a smile.

"Abigail, any idea which one?"

"_No. Erin says there are at least five different poisons used by the NIU which can cause the same symptoms."_

"Five? Surely, one would be enough."

Gibbs chuckled humorlessly. "Why have one horrible drug when you could have five?"

Ducky sighed. "Yes. I suppose so. Timothy, give me your arm. I need to draw some blood. We will have to do this the old-fashioned way. Tests."

Tim extended his arm which trembled violently. Ducky took his blood sample quickly and shoved it into his portable scanner...which he was never so grateful to have kept. There were benefits to being a packrat after all.

"It will take a few minutes. Do we have the time?"

"_Yes. You have the time,"_ came Erin's voice. _"Proceed."_

More gasps. The pain was severe enough that it was hampering Tim's ability to breathe. Ducky fished around in his bag and pulled out an old, battered doll.

"Here, Timothy, hold on to this while we wait."

Tim cracked open an eyelid. "I think...I'm...a bit old for dolls...Ducky...and...the wrong...gender."

"You know very well what doll this is."

Tim swallowed. "Kort...killed...Sarah...to find...me..." He hugged the doll to his chest and whimpered. "Just...for me..."

"No, lad. He thought it was me at the time, remember?"

"He killed...her to...find Thom." Tim choked again, trying to breathe, groan and sob at the same time. His breaths became wheezes. "Help...Ducky...it...really...hurts."

Ducky set down the scanner and pulled Tim into a hug.

"I wish I could just stop the pain right now, lad, but I can't. I can't and it pains me to see you suffer."

There was a small beep.

"Patience, Timothy." He knelt down once more and examined the scanner and then set it to begin the synthesis of the antidote, thankfully fast-acting...like all NIU antidotes. They had to be since often those being interrogated were brought to the brink of death before being pulled back again. A slow-acting antidote would do no good in preserving the prisoner for further interrogation.

The synthesis seemed to take forever as Tim gasped for breath, moaned in pain and writhed weakly on his cot. When the beep came, Ducky reacted at top speed, pulling it out, loading it into the jet injector and then applying it to Tim's arm. Then, he dropped the injector on the floor, lifted Tim up and slid beneath him on the cot, holding him tightly as Tim shook and trembled.

"It will take some time for the antidote to reach the appropriate areas, Timothy. We shall have to wait. Do we have time?" He looked at Gibbs, pleading for there to be time enough for this.

"Abbs?"

Abby sounded like she was crying. _"Yes, Gibbs. We have time. Is he okay?"_

"Not yet."

Ducky began rocking Tim back and forth, trying not to cry himself as he felt the tension in Tim's exhausted body, a tension that only increased with each new spasm.

Tony and Gibbs said nothing. They watched both the painful scene before them and the empty space behind. They didn't want to be taken by surprise...or put too much trust in Erin's abilities. ...but what could they say? That everything would be all right? No. Nothing they could say would be anything but trite. So they both kept silent.

Gradually, Tim's spasms were spaced more, they had less punch to them...and after about ten minutes, he sagged down in Ducky's arms, unconscious. His body still trembled both from lingering pain and from exhaustion, but it was not enough to keep him awake, not after more than a day of nearly constant agony.

"How much time can we give him?" Ducky asked softly, brushing back sweaty hair from Tim's forehead as he took deep, shaky breaths.

"_I estimate that you can wait for ten minutes at the least...but longer than fifteen will be risking discovery."_

"Very well. We will give him ten minutes," Ducky said in a tone that may as well have been the voice of the law, saying how things would be done. It brooked no argument.

Gibbs and Tony had no intention of arguing. One look at Tim told them that trying to move right away would be impossible. Privately, they were wondering if he would be able to move after ten minutes.

After eight minutes, they again heard Erin's monotonous voice.

"_It will probably take time to awaken him. You should begin now."_

"Wow, ten minutes to fix him, huh?" Tony asked, pretending to be impressed.

"Oh, no, Anthony," Ducky said as he shifted Tim's limp, unresponsive body, "this is merely preserving Timothy's life and removing the worst of the pain. It will take much longer for him to recover fully. I would guess a full day of solid rest...or more before he ready for anything at all, let alone vigorous physical activity." He, then, leaned over the still figure. "Timothy, it is time to get up."

There was no response at first and Ducky shook Tim to get him to move. He almost regretted doing so. With the return to consciousness came the return of the pain, the exhaustion...but Tim managed a weak smile.

"Time to go?" he asked, his voice soft and shaky. His eyes closed as a cramp gripped him again. When the spasm passed, he opened his eyes and tried to smile again. He failed.

"Yes, Timothy, I'm afraid so. We don't have unlimited time here."

Tim nodded and wearily let his eyelids droop once more. Ducky could see the ambivalence he felt about accepting his rescue, no matter how desperately he might want it.

Gibbs walked over and crouched down so that he was at eye level with Tim.

"McGee, we've got to get out of here now. You ready for that?"

Tim stared at him for a long time, a negative screaming silently with every labored breath. ...but then he nodded.

"Good. Tony, come and help, McGee."

Tony left his position by the cell door and bent over to help Tim stand. Tim briefly tried to fend him off.

"I don't need your help." It would have been derisive if it hadn't been so weak...and if he hadn't had another cramp that made him gasp.

Tony finally showed a bit of frustration. "Look, McGee, we're trying to help you out here. We've probably lost our jobs and could lose our lives. We're not asking you for anything. ...so stop making this more difficult than it already is!" Then, he reached down, grabbed Tim's arm and slung it over his own shoulders before hoisting him to his feet. Tim hung limply in his grasp for a moment before struggling to stand on his own feet. His head was bowed down as he breathed shallowly.

"I'm...sorry. ...Tony. ...I'm...not used to...trusting people like you."

"What a coincidence," Tony said, trying to get a better grip around Tim's waste, "I'm not used to trusting people like you...I don't normally associate with people who are trying to bring down the government."

With a sudden burst of energy, Tim stood straight up and pulled back from Tony, staring him in the eye. He was shaking and Ducky reached out to steady him. He brushed away the hand irritably.

"That's not what I'm doing! That's _never_ been my intention!"

"Timothy, we don't have time."

"I don't care! I am _tired _of people telling me what I'm doing! You're saying the same things Kort believes about me. ...and it's not true!" To Tony's surprise, Tim's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to destroy anything! All I want is to be free. If they would just let me go...if they would just let us all have a choice, I would leave and I would go and let them continue on down here!" Tim was deadly earnest. "But they won't. That's the sign of a corrupt and oppressive government...Agent...Tony. They know that if they let people start returning to the surface they'll lose control. They know that they can't keep people beaten down when they can escape from the rulers. Down here...if something goes wrong, where we can run? When Sub Salt flooded...there was nowhere for Sarah and me to go. When the cavern began to fill, we could only go up...but even then, it was only so far...and then, we had to watch the water rise...and hope that it would stop. When something bad happens down here, we have nowhere else to go. There's no recourse. All we have is down here. That's why they can control us. That's why no one opposes the oppression. That's why people like Kort exist! That's why we're prisoners down here. If they release us, they'll fall. They know it...I know it. A government that deserves to stand isn't afraid of people being free. It _wants_ its people to be free. It wants people who will criticize them and show them where they've failed. I've read so many books about the governments that existed before the Descent. They were flawed...horribly flawed in some cases. There were corrupt governments. There were oppressive governments...but people couldn't be kept down forever."

Tim bent over for a moment and again Ducky reached to help him...and again Tim pushed him away, straightening once more. He wasn't finished.

"I'm trying to show people that they have a choice...because the leaders present themselves as our saviors. They're the ones who keep the dangers from the surface up there while we remain safe down here. It's a lie! Every word that they speak is a _lie_! We are not being saved. We are being destroyed. No, it's not bombs they're using. It's not radiation. It's just a slow, steady decline into oblivion...because, even subconsciously, we know that there's no hope as long as we're pinned beneath the surface. As long as we're underground we can't grow; we can't thrive. We can only die. I don't want that to happen. I don't want humanity to become extinct. I want us to live. It's not about destruction, Tony. It's about restoration."

Enervated by his impassioned speech, Tim's eyes flickered, he wobbled on his feet and began to topple toward the ground. Tony grabbed him just in time. He looked at Ducky with eyes that said he had no idea what to do.

"Timothy, can we go?" Ducky asked, knowing that there definitely was not time to address what Tim had said...not as it needed to be.

Tim only nodded. Then, he managed to lift his head and look at Tony once more.

"How much of my weight can you take?" His voice now returned to the former pained whisper, almost like he was a different person.

"Not all of it...but quite a bit. I'm a big tough guy."

Tim laughed softly. "Take it away." And then he winced.

"Ducky you'd better take your own bag this time. McGee here is no bag of bones."

"Feel like it," Tim whispered.

"No, McGee...you feel like you have _no_ bones."

"Enough talking. Let's go!" Gibbs ordered and the former trio set out...a bit more slowly...and a _lot_ more awkwardly than they had been before.

"Erin," Gibbs said.

"_Your pathway is clear. Go left outside the holding area."_

Gibbs started to walk, leading the others. He could hear Tim stumbling along and Tony's grunts as he bore the bulk of Tim's weight. The route out of the building was longer, more circuitous than the way in had been. This was of necessity since, with Tim in tow, they had to avoid the more high-traffic areas. ...and they had to take the stairs.

"_Stop, guys! Stop!"_ Abby's voice squeaked out of Gibbs' band.

"What is it, Abbs?"

"_Someone's coming! Get into a closet...or something."_

"A closet? We're in the hallway twenty feet from the stairwell. Abbs, there's no closet."

"_You have to get out of there! You'll be seen!"_

Too late, they heard the two agents approaching.

"I know where the holding cells are located. I do not need your assistance."

"It's not a big deal."

"No, but I still do not see why it is necessary that I be escorted around the...building..."

They came around the corner, a man and a woman, arguing...an argument which petered to nothing when they came upon the four men. Tim's eyes locked with the woman's.

"Ziva," he said.

Ziva David's eyes moved across the four of them, realization dawning in them as she understood just what she was seeing in front of her.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

The staring contest seemed to last for hours, but then, the man started to move, bringing his hand to his wristband, ready to call for the cavalry. Before his hand had made it even halfway, however, Ziva spun around, grabbing his hand and wrenching it around behind his back, wrapping an arm around his neck and squeezing. He was unable to speak or move...until he fell to the floor, unconscious or dead. Then, Ziva stood erect and looked only at Tim.

"Do you need help?" she asked, acting almost hesitant.

Tim's head raised in disbelief. Gibbs glanced down at the man on the floor.

"Is he dead?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, but we should kill him. He will awaken and sound the alarm."

"No," Tim said, struggling to stand without Tony's help. It wasn't working. "No, you're not going to...kill him."

"Why not?" Ziva asked.

"Because it's not necessary."

"You were ready to kill those men to save Ducky at the time of your arrest."

"Because it would have helped him get away. Killing this man will only delay our discovery by a minute or two...if that. Kort won't leave me alone for long. He'll come to the cell and he'll know." Another spasm took Tim by surprise and he gasped and sagged toward the floor.

Tony just managed to keep his grip. "Whoa, there, McGee. Warn me next time."

"Leave him...alive," Tim ordered. It was strange at first glance that Tim was giving orders from his rather weak position. It wasn't as though he could do anything to stop Ziva were she determined to do it...but she listened.

"Very well. Do you need my help?" she asked again...still looking only at Tim. It was his permission she needed to get. He was the one she had betrayed in the course of doing what she had thought was her duty.

Tim couldn't seem to answer that question...whether because he didn't know the answer or because he was just too tired to do it was uncertain.

"_Guys, you should get moving."_

"On it, Abbs," Gibbs said...and made Tim's decision for him. "Yes, we could use your help. Tony's not in much of a position to fend off attackers." He turned toward the door to the stairwell and paused. "What is your father going to say about this?"

Ziva looked down at the unconscious agent on the floor, hiding her face from view for a moment. When she looked up, there was a carefully crafted expression of nonchalance.

"Once he hears about this, he will no longer be my father...or my employer. Perhaps he is not anyway. Perhaps he never was."

Gibbs nodded and gestured. "You take the back. I'll take the front."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"You know each other?" Tony asked, awkwardly pulling Tim toward the stairwell door.

"No," Ziva said. "We have merely...crossed paths."

She cast one more glance over her shoulder...looking at more than the downed agent. She was looking at the life she had very permanently abandoned. There was no going back now...and she knew it. She said nothing more, however, and simply took up position at the rear of the group.

"What about him?" Tony asked gesturing back over his shoulder.

"If he does not matter later, he does not matter now."

Tony tried to shrug, but even he was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the man lying in the middle of the floor.

"How far behind schedule are we, Erin?" Gibbs asked softly as they began their descent.

"_You are not. With the additional aid of Ziva David, you will be better equipped to make faster progress."_

"Good."

"Not so good, Boss," Tony called. "We're slowing down quite a bit for this, I think."

Gibbs looked back over his shoulder and saw that, if Tim had been pale before, he was now paper white, shaking badly...and the cramps seemed to be increasing in frequency once again.

"Ducky, are you sure that was the right antidote?"

"I am certain. It is the exertion that he is not ready for. It is hampering the antidote's effectiveness." Ducky looked anguished. "But we cannot wait for him to recover as I said before. There is not the time."

"I'm...fine," Tim whispered.

"McGee, why don't you steady yourself on the railing. That'll give me a bit more stability and maybe we can get you down a little bit faster."

Gibbs watched Tim's exhausted nod and wondered if he would make it down even one flight, let alone four. Unfortunately, there wasn't room for three abreast on these stairs. Put Tim on Tony's back and he'd still have to be able to hang on. What they were doing was the best they could do. ...and it just wasn't good enough.

As if he'd felt Gibbs' gaze, perhaps even heard his thoughts, Tim's head lifted. A brief suggestion of a smile flashed over his face.

"Don't worry," he gasped. "I didn't make it...through thirteen years of school on my pretty smile."

Gibbs met Tim's eyes and finally saw beyond the pain, the fear, the weariness...and he saw the strength, the determination. Tim had spent literally _years_ in the control of people whose only intention was to break his will...and they had failed. No way would Tim McGee let the government beat him, not now...not ever. Gibbs nodded his understanding and continued down the stairs. It was slow going and Tim's breathing was loud and echoing in the concrete-walled space, but eventually, they made it to the ground floor...and the emergency exit.

"Erin, we're ready for you to open the door."

"_The alarm has been disengaged. You may leave."_

"Could we commandeer a transport while we're breaking all laws known to man?" Tony asked, panting a little. Ducky moved back.

"_That would be inadvisable as transports are obvious vehicles and people will notice them pass. A group of men and women out late at night is too common a scene to garner attention."_

"Here, Anthony, I will support him for a while."

"Are you sure you can hold him up, Ducky? He's taller than you."

"He's also sagging quite low. I shall be fine for a little while."

It was a good sign of Tim's fatigue that he said nothing about the exchange, nor tried to protest the shift.

"Here, Timothy, lean on me for a while." Ducky staggered a little under the weight when Tim did as requested. "Yes, Anthony, you will have to take him back eventually, but not yet."

Tony laughed. "I told you he's not light."

Ducky smiled as well, but it didn't last as he stared in concern at Timothy's pallor and felt his trembling body.

"No, he is not. Timothy, will you make it?"

Tim only nodded. He didn't speak.

"Erin, we're out and heading for the park. You and Abby should get going."

"_Yes, we will. I am erasing your images from all cameras, your voices from any live recording devices. No one will know that you were there...with the exception of the man you left alive. He may...although I am not certain he will remember."_

"Just meet us at the park."

"_We're on our way, Gibbs,"_ Abby said. _"We'll be there before you."_

"More than likely." He looked at Ducky now supporting nearly _all_ of Tim's weight. Tim couldn't even keep his eyes open anymore and his abdominal spasms were obviously continuing.

"Ducky?"

"I can manage for now, Jethro. I will certainly let you know when I can't."

Gibbs smiled at Ducky's protective nature but understood his need to do his part. His gaze slid over to Ziva. She had said nothing since joining them, and he was a bit ambivalent about her presence. Still, he couldn't distrust everyone. Tim didn't seemed disposed to mistrust her and he would surely be more likely...although whether he had the energy to oppose her presence was another matter altogether.

"We need to tell Jimmy where to go," Tim whispered to Ducky. "He can't...can't be there when they...start looking."

"I know. I will tell him."

"He needs to be safe, Ducky."

"He will be, lad. I promise."

Together, the group walked, but after a single block, Tim was transferred once more...this time to Gibbs' tender care. Ducky was just not the one Tim could lean on physically...although mentally and emotionally, he outstripped all of them. Gibbs got a good grip and they continued on. Tim was fading fast and no matter his intentions, Gibbs wasn't sure that Tim would be able to last all the way to the library...and taking the tram would be a bad idea. Then, Tony walked over onto the other side and took half Tim's weight off Gibbs' shoulders...in essence, allowing Tim to give up any pretense that he could manage simple ambulatory motion.

"We'll get you there, McGee. No worries."

Soon enough, the park loomed up ahead of them. It was one of the few places in Mammoth that had trees, grass. It was necessarily small and only a few of the rare woods graced the borders. Beneath one there was a bench, occupied by two women.

"Abby?" Tony asked.

One of the figures jumped up and ran over to them. The other remained sitting.

Abby flew at them, stopped and looked around at them all, ascertaining that the majority were indeed uninjured and then, she looked at Tim. He was still limp, barely conscious, but that didn't matter to Abby. Gibbs could see what was coming before she said anything.

"Oh, no. Tim!"

Then, she ran at him and grabbed him in a tight hug, arms encircling his torso. Her approach _looked_ uncontrolled, but in reality, she could see that a flying tackle would not really help Tim out at all. Instead, she was simply holding him, supporting more of his dead weight than one would expect her to be able to support. Abby was stronger than she looked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Tim. This is horrible. I'm so sorry. We're such awful people!"

Tim's head lifted for a moment and he looked at the others in what could only be described as shock. His arms now hung slackly at his sides (Tony and Gibbs knew when to move out of the way) and he didn't seem to know what to do.

"Some of you...are," he finally said. "But...not all."

Still, he didn't move his arms. Tony finally laughed and lifted them up.

"You're supposed to return a hug, McGee...particularly an Abby hug," he said. "You put your arms like this. I'll let you off the hook on the squeezing part because I'll bet you can't, but you should at least acknowledge that she's hugging you."

Tim kept his arms around her and he moved his head to rest on hers.

"I think you're the best...of a bad lot," he said and managed a weak smile.

"Thanks...I think," Abby said, her voice a bit muffled. "Tony, you want to take him back now?"

"Sure, Abbs." Tony obligingly unwound Tim's arms and resumed his position of acting as Tim's spinal column and legs.

"Who's that?" Tim asked, pointing briefly toward the still-motionless figure on the bench.

"That's Erin," Abby said. "She helped us get you out."

"You...you..._forced_ her to–?" Tim began.

"No! We asked if she wanted to...and they were ready to...to throw her away," Abby said, angrily. "She said she would help. She remembered you."

"Of course she...did. We don't forget."

"It wasn't like that, McGee," Tony said. "It really wasn't. We kind of rescued her, too."

Tim shook his head and let it drop again, the anger sapping what little fire he'd managed to ignite.

"Not really. I saw her already...I know."

"But she'll be free, Tim," Abby said. "That's got to be better than what they'd do to her."

"Timothy, we are not exploiting her," Ducky said.

"Not intentionally, maybe...but if you think that there's anything she would have refused to do...then, you don't understand." He sagged heavily against Tony.

"Should we rest here for a bit?" Ducky asked.

Tim shook his head. "We couldn't wait long enough for it to...do any good. Let's...just go."

There was too much truth in that to ignore and so, in spite of the worry they all had for Tim's state, they set off once more. ...only, this time, while still remaining silent, Ziva unassumingly walked over and took Tim's other side. She was shorter but she was able to support enough of his weight that they could walk more quickly...the mile to the library.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The librarian was waiting. Ever since Stan had called him and let him know that there was a jailbreak in progress, he had waited for Tim to come back to the library. He would...although what he'd think when he got a glimpse of his employer was another matter. Again, he smiled to himself, relishing the feeling of unencumbered expressions. The back room was all prepared and he was also ready for a sudden influx of...well, they wouldn't _exactly_ be refugees...but in essence, they would be. He had to be ready for an unknown number of them because Stan had said they were in contact with others, amazingly organized for such a short period...but then, Stan had said they were NIU. That organization generally did get the best.

Then, he heard the alarms being disengaged and he grinned. Perfect timing.

He walked around to the front of the library and opened the door for...well, a larger group than he had expected...and to Tim in much worse shape than he'd expected. His first glimpse made his heart twist almost as much as it had for his daughter. Tim was more than beaten...much worse than that. He was trampled...but he didn't express any of that.

"I thought I'd get you back here pretty fast, Tim," he said. "Although you've managed to gather a larger group than I anticipated."

Tim's head lifted and everyone stared.

"Who are you?" Tim asked...and then in disbelief, he shook his head. "No. That's...it's...it's impossible."

"Not at all...and it's a thrilling story. I'll tell you later, Tim. I promise. Right now, I think you should get him into the back. I doubt he's going to tolerate remaining upright for much longer...let alone survive hearing an extremely exciting tale." He gestured. "Go on. Through the non-fiction. Turn left at the astronomy books."

"You have to...let Jimmy in...when he gets here," Tim said.

"I will. Promise. Then, we lock down."

No one moved.

"You waiting for invitations?" he asked wryly.

Finally, Tim managed a smile and tried to pull on his supports to move them away. Four of Tim's fans went with him. That left Gibbs and a woman who had entered and simply stopped moving, almost as if she had been turned off.

"Who are you?" Gibbs asked.

"Don't you recognize me, Agent Gibbs? It's only been twenty years after all."

Gibbs was staring at him in the way that people do when they feel as though they _should_ know someone and just can't quite put their finger on why.

"While you think about it, why don't you tell me who else you've brought with you?"

Gibbs looked back over his shoulder and then walked to the woman and led her gently to the library desk.

"This is Erin. She helped us get Tim out. We kind of...kidnapped her from the...residence."

"She's a genius?"

"Yes."

The librarian suddenly realized what the name had been.

"Erin?" he asked...but he wasn't asking Gibbs. He wasn't even _looking_ at him. Erin's eyes didn't show any sign that she'd heard him. Softly, he began to hum a little tune, one he'd packed away with the rest of his life. As he did, she smiled and began mouthing the words.

_"Twinkle, twinkle, little star.  
How I wonder what you are."_

She sang the words and then, she really looked at him, life flooding her eyes just for a moment.

"Daddy."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Stan regained consciousness, groaning and feeling a bit put upon.

"That's the last time that _I_ try to help out," he muttered, massaging his neck and his wrist in turns. That Ziva had quite the grip. He probably could have stopped her if he had realized what she was going to do...but how was he to have known that she was going to turn traitor to her country? Then, he groaned again as he understood what she had been doing in heading to the holding cells.

"I interrupted her when she was going to break him out," he mumbled to himself and cursed his own timing...and hers. "Man, who _is_ this guy that he gets _two_ rescue attempts in one night?"

Coughing and wincing, Stan pulled himself to his feet, vowing to call the librarian and berate him for putting one of his cohorts in harm's way.

However, it wouldn't be good if he were caught here in the hallway, obviously the victim of an assault. Then, he'd have to say what he had seen. Quickly, he limped off to his office, hoping that he'd remembered to restock his first aid kit.

He could feel a headache coming on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I've never been in here before," Abby said, looking around at the stacks of books as she followed the others.

"Feel free to...browse," Tim gasped out.

"All right, McGee, we're almost there."

"I know." The words were sobs.

They made to the back room and Tony and Ziva dragged Tim to the bed and lay him down gently. He curled into a fetal position and began to shake.

Ducky knelt down and opened his bag. "I'm going to give you another dose of the antidote, Timothy. That should help."

"I'm okay...I'm okay," Tim said, even as he cried both from the pain and from the exhaustion. "Just tired. ...and cold."

Ducky felt Tim's forehead. "Yes, you are running a slight fever at the moment but that could just as easily be due to our little marathon as anything else. Give me your arm."

Tim extended his arm and once the shot was administered, he resumed shaking. Ducky pulled a blanket over him.

"Just rest, lad," he said. "That's all you need to do right now. Rest."

Tim's eyes fell closed, but then, he forced them open again. "I didn't...want this for...you...Ducky."

"I know, Timothy...but I never wanted this life for you, either. We just have to do what we can with what we have now. I feel safe in here, knowing that it is your handiwork which protects us. Sleep."

"How could it...all go...so wrong...so fast?"

"Sleep, Timothy. Just rest."

"I'm sorry."

"I know, Timothy. I know." Ducky drew his hand over Tim's eyes and closed them. "Rest."

Rest came a few minutes later as the antidote did its work and Tim's exhaustion finally took precedence over anything else.

"How long will it take for him to heal...Dr. Mallard?" Ziva asked.

"Twenty-four hours or more, Ziva. As soon as I can be assured that it will not cause him further discomfort, I will attempt to get him to drink. Where the poison targeted his abdomen, he cannot yet tolerate food."

"Who are you?" Abby asked.

"I am...was...Mossad. I was responsible for Tim's arrest."

"Not entirely," Ducky said, still keeping watch over Tim. "Kort was looking for me as well. How ironic it is...that you could both be so close and yet so far from the truth. Why would you think I was capable of it?"

"Because you had the means, the motive, the opportunity. You are wealthy. You are intelligent and well-connected. You would be able to do what was necessary."

Ducky sighed and laughed. "Perhaps...but I don't possess the fire required to fight such a battle. It takes someone like Timothy, someone who has seen everything taken from him to have the strength to fight for so long. They have nothing else to lose...although the NIU certainly did their best to take from him what little he had."

"I do not blame you for being angry with me."

"I'm not angry, Ziva. I'm both saddened and heartened by this turn of events. It is forcing more people's hands than you could possibly imagine." Ducky finally looked up at the three. "He will more than likely sleep all night...and possibly into tomorrow. I will stay with him for now. You should get some rest yourselves. I have a feeling that we will all be wishing for that later on."

Silently, the others left Ducky alone with Tim and scattered to the small side rooms, all containing beds (or cots). They weren't luxurious, but they were comfortable.

"You arrested Tim?" Abby asked, following Ziva to her chosen space.

"Yes...well, Agent Kort arrested him, but I was responsible for starting the events." Ziva shrugged and lay down on a cot. "I was doing what I thought was my job. It was the first time that doing so was wrong...but it was hard to admit it."

"And so Tim had to pay for that?"

Ziva sat up and looked at Abby. "Abby...that is your name, yes? You are blaming me for not turning against my country, my father, the oaths I took? I gave up everything I have ever valued tonight. Just because you were able to come to this realization earlier than I was able to does not give you the right to blame me for what happened. Ducky is right. We should sleep now...when we are found, we will wish we had slept more."

"You think we'll be found?"

"I know we will. We left behind a witness," Ziva said and rolled over onto her side, away from Tony and Abby.

They didn't say anything more either.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

In another room, the librarian pulled a blanket over his daughter and stared at her in amazement.

"I thought for sure she was dead already. They don't last long once the government gets their teeth into them," he said bitterly. "They grab on and they hold on until they've sucked the life right out of them." There was a long pause. "She's dying, though, isn't she."

"Yeah."

"Thought as much. The way she moves. I can tell. Do you know how long?"

"The guy at the residence said–"

"It's a prison. Call it what it is."

"He said that they thought it was days or maybe weeks."

The librarian nodded and kissed Erin's forehead. Her eyes were already closed but another smile flitted across her face.

"Tobias."

"Figured it out, did you?"

"I remember you whistling that dumb lullaby when I first got hired."

Tobias Fornell, the librarian...and former NIU agent, laughed. "It's one of the few lullabies that make any sense. Who knows what stars are anymore? It's better than the one that has you putting your baby in a tree and waiting for it fall over."

"You committed suicide."

"I got better," he said grimly. "No. They tried to kill me and then _said_ that I committed suicide. They thought I was dead...and have done for twenty years. ...all because I had the gall to try and keep my only daughter from being turned into a machine. My wife...ex-wife tried and they got to her, too. If you were using her to help get Tim out, then you know why they wanted her."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Tobias echoed. "Scum."

"So why become a librarian?"

"For the same reason that Tim did. It's out of sight...but you have access to information most people only dream of. I needed information in order to make my plans."

"You're one of Thom's followers?"

Tobias laughed again and stood up to face Gibbs. "No. No, I don't care about getting to the surface, but I will admit that reading what Thom had to say helped shape what _I_ want."

"What do you want?"

"I want to take down this government. It doesn't work anymore. Back when we first began living down here, it was a necessity that the people who had created the caverns be in charge because they were the ones who knew the limits...and they knew how to communicate with one another. Now...now, all that is used as an excuse to do whatever they want. We have only the rights they _allow_ us to have. They can take my daughter from me and subject her to treatment that will kill her long before she should have died. Probably 25 percent of the suicides listed are actually government-ordered assassinations, people who are quietly moved out of the way and then left out for the crawlers...like I was. No mess. No fuss." Tobias began to pace. "Tim has done a lot of research and it led him to the surface. Maybe he's right and we do need that...but what he doesn't see is that in order for that to happen, the government has to fall. They won't _let_ him. They can't _afford_ to let him do what he wants. Something else has to be put in its place."

"Like?"

"Like a government in which people have a voice. Those kinds of governments are generally the best option...if only because when you spread out the decision-making powers among so many people, it's hard for truly horrible things to get done...because there's usually someone making a fuss about it. I read somewhere in here that a man said a democracy is the worst form of government...except for all the others that have been tried. That's what we need. Something that isn't great, but something that works and is at least better than what we have. Maybe we can make it _into_ something great...but we can't do that with the current structure. The current structure is corrupt from top to bottom. The Hegemony down to individual agents like Kort. We've given too much power to too few people."

"How are you going to do that?"

"How do you think, Jethro?" Tobias asked. "I'm not going to politely ask them to step down."

"An uprising?"

"A revolution."

"Are you ready for that?"

"What do you think I've been doing for the last twenty years? I wasn't just cataloging books." He eyed Gibbs knowingly. "You don't like that, do you. You don't like the idea of taking down the government."

"No, I don't."

Tobias shrugged. "I understand. It's a hard act to sell, but I wouldn't even be advocating it if I didn't think it had to happen. Tim can try and make people think, but if the government squashes anyone who does, he hasn't gotten anywhere. He may not think he is, but what he's really saying to people is that in order to be free, you can't live under the leadership we have. We're using what he's saying to gain support for what _we_ want to do. No one will be forced to join in. None of you will. If you don't believe in what we're doing, we'll help you do what you think is right and go about our business. I just ask that you not try and stop us."

"Why? Because you'll kill us if we do?"

Tobias laughed in his face. "Do you really buy into the party line so much, Jethro? That's not the Agent Gibbs I remember. I remember a new guy so gungho that we had to rein him in more than once, explaining to him the way things had to be. What happened to him?"

"He saw life as it really was."

Tobias nodded, a little sadly. "Exactly. Jethro, we don't function by force. We _will _rise up in force because that's the only language some people understand...but if you go and start talking about it, start trying to stop us...then, the people I've worked with for so many years will probably die. Good people will die, people who trust me to keep them as safe as possible. I don't want that. I don't want my people to pay that price."

"Some of them will, you know."

"I know. I'm not naive and neither are they...but I also know that this is something that needs to be done...and _can_ be done because our government is rotten. A few swipes in the right places and the whole thing will come tumbling down."

"And you don't want the surface?"

"No. I want freedom."

"That's what Tim says he wants."

"Yes, but we see it very differently. I've read Thom's works. Tim's intentions might be honorable but at their heart they're based in a selfish desire to gain his own freedom."

"Aren't you the same?" Gibbs challenged.

"To a degree, yes. Everyone who wants to bring about change is selfish. They are saying that everyone needs to change because _they_ know that life will be better if the change occurs. Tim wants to get to the surface. I just want a better government...but they're not mutually exclusive views. If the government falls, Tim can go." Tobias shrugged. "Maybe he's right...and the surface _is_ our only hope for survival. I don't know. I could be wrong, but at least I'm honest enough to admit that it's possible. Our current leaders don't allow that."

"What about the NIU? What are you going to do about them? About the Triumvirate, the other branches?"

Tobias looked back at Erin. She was laying as she had been in the residence. Her body was straight and her eyes closed. The only difference was the lingering smile on her face. He didn't want to leave her now.

"They're the biggest difficulty. Don't think I'm unaware of that. What do we do about people like...well, like Ron Sacks? He's a good agent, mostly works in cold cases, reopened _mine_ because things didn't fit. ...but he's also completely loyal to the ideals of the NIU. He supports the Hegemony so far as we've been able to ascertain. What do we do about people like that? Not everyone is like Kort. Even the Triumvirate is not so much corrupt as ruthless. I can easily believe that they'd give up supporting the Hegemony if it was expedient to do so."

"So...what are you going to do about them?"

"What I've _been_ doing...trying to get as much support from the agents as I can. I don't want to fight against good people, Jethro, but in the end, I think I'll have to."

"You would have fought against us?"

"If you were on the other side of the line, yeah. ...and you would do the exact same thing. You might try to aim at someone else rather than the people you knew, but you wouldn't stop fighting just because you recognized a few faces. It's going to be a war...unless the Hegemony willingly steps down, the NIU willingly dissolves. It's not going be bloodless."

"And what are you going to put in its place? You have to have people keeping the peace."

"A version of the NIU...but with less absolute powers. They aren't going to be judge, jury and executioner...in addition to law enforcement. We're going to set up a real court system, one in which people can get real chances to defend themselves, one that _everyone_ has to answer to, be they leaders or followers. Leaders will be _elected_ not appointed. No more of the controlling of the geniuses, no more torture, working them to premature deaths. We shouldn't be punishing people for being smart...but that's what it amounts to."

"I don't think I can support what you're planning, Tobias."

Tobias shrugged. "That's your perogative. What _are_ you going to do?"

"I'm not sure."

"You don't _know_? You rescued the most wanted man in the world from prison, gave up everything you've ever believed in...and you don't know what comes next?"

"We had to move fast."

"You're right. You did. Tim would have disappeared. You would have lost him. ...and you're welcome to stay here as long as you can, but...you have to have some sort of plan. I know what Tim's plan will be, although I haven't the slightest idea of how he can accomplish it."

"You think he's going to want to get to the surface."

"I don't think that. I know it. Have you read any of Thom's works?"

"Not really. They don't tend to _encourage_ that kind of thing...and I'm not much of a reader."

Tobias walked over to a cabinet and unlocked it. He pulled out a stack of books and articles.

"Here. You need to understand the man you've rescued. You might get Tim to some degree...but you don't get Thom."

"You're acting like they're two different people."

"To a degree, they are...oh, I'm not implying that they're separate personalities, but Tim has kept his life completely compartmentalized up to now. You have no idea how weird it is to see Ducky here, you. Tim is at least four different people. He is a librarian during the day. He's a singer most nights. He's Tim, a damaged genius, with Ducky and Sarah...and in the background of all of that, he's Thom the Gem, a revolutionary. Now, he's being forced to be all of them at once...well, maybe not the singer...or maybe he is even the singer...because only the singer gets to show any sort of emotion."

Gibbs looked skeptically at Tobias.

"You think I'm kidding? You don't understand, then, the kinds of things that are done to the geniuses. Look at my daughter. Erin didn't even protest anything you asked of her, did she."

"No."

"And she wouldn't. It wouldn't have mattered if you had asked her to kill someone. She would have done it. She would have killed me if you had asked her to. She would kill herself if ordered to. She will do anything to the best of her ability. That's who she is...or rather _what_ she is...a machine that accepts commands. That's what Tim was on the way to being. I think that if his family hadn't died, if he hadn't had his sister, he would have been too far gone even for Ducky to save. As it is, he tries to keep his life so separate that he doesn't have to make any sort of connections. Connections with people are messy and painful. He doesn't want to face that. Why do you think he writes everything he has to say? It makes it more objective, more logical...less human. He is being forced to be human right now. I doubt it will last once he starts to recover. Tim doesn't _want_ to be human because he's forgotten how to deal with all that being human requires. Being human means that you care. He does in spite of himself but he hides from it."

"You seem to be speaking from experience."

"I've been around him for ten years, Jethro. I'd be blind and deaf for real if I didn't notice things. I've also done a lot of work finding out what happens to the people like him. I don't know how much he told you about his history, but I can tell that you don't know even half of it. You have no idea how cruel our government is to children."

Tobias walked back over to Erin and sat beside her.

"If you can support a government that is forcing me to watch my daughter die...then, you've changed a lot more than I have," he said. "There's a room next door with a cot. I've converted a lot of space into hideouts...for occasions like this. You should get some sleep."

"And you?"

"I'm going to sit with Erin. Days or weeks, I'm going to spend as much time with her as I can." He gently touched her hair. "She looks like her mother...thank goodness." He laughed a little and then brushed a tear off his cheek.

Gibbs withdrew...but instead of sleeping, he sat down and began to read...a little book called _A World without Limits_ by Thom the Gem.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

It was a strange sort of stasis the group seemed to be in for the next day. Tim slept and didn't awaken beyond momentary twinges that would cause him to stir and then fall asleep once more. The rescue had happened as it should...but what next? Kort hadn't come storming the library and none of them knew why. They weren't complaining, but they _were_ surprised. Abby found herself drawn to Erin and Tobias, wanting to speak with them, be there with two people who represented what could have happened to her. Ziva remained aloof from everyone, choosing to hide herself among the books rather than to speak. Ducky (and Jimmy when he had arrived, laden with a number of things Ducky had requested he bring from the house) stayed with Tim, waiting for him to awaken. Gibbs was reading. He _had_ slept but he was reading Thom's books and was not in the mood for conversation. It was an experience for him...sitting and reading. He hadn't done it in years...and he was really getting to know the person he'd risked his life to rescue.

Tony, on the other hand, was trying to find something to do, but he just couldn't. He was feeling antsy...and incredibly anxious. He had very firmly placed himself outside the law...and that was somewhere he'd never wanted to be. He just couldn't settle on anything...so he walked back to Tim's room.

"Jimmy, you can go and get some sleep. I'll stay here."

"I'm not that tired, Uncle Don."

Ducky's laughter was soft and kind. "You were half asleep just moments ago, lad. I will wait. Are you doing all right? No problems being here?"

"A little."

"Then, you should definitely go and sleep. You'll only get worse otherwise."

"All right. I feel so bad about..."

"He doesn't blame you, Jimmy. You shouldn't blame yourself."

"I know."

"Go to sleep."

"Yes...sir."

"Impudent."

Jimmy laughed and Tony had to jump back as he came out of the room. There was an expression on Jimmy's face that Tony felt he had seen before. He just couldn't place it. He put it out of his mind, however, and walked in to see Ducky, looking very tired, sitting beside the bed where Tim was still sleeping.

"Ducky?" he asked softly.

Ducky jumped a little. "Oh, Anthony, I thought you would be Jimmy coming back again."

"No. You want to get some sleep? You must have been here since we put McGee down on the bed."

"Oh, I couldn't impose."

Tony laughed. "Impose?"

Ducky caught the irony and laughed as well. "I am, I must confess, rather tired."

"I'll sit with him."

Ducky nodded gratefully. "You all have done more than I could ever have asked. I am not sure that Tim will ever express any gratitude, but I will. Thank you."

Tony shrugged. "It was the right thing to do."

"Yes, well, that doesn't always mean anything." Ducky began to walk out, hobbling just a little. "If he does awaken, be sure to get him to drink some water at least. He must be dehydrated."

"I will."

Tony settled himself for a long, silent wait...but it was only about two hours before Tim finally woke up. His eyes opened with the slow speed of the injured and he seemed confused at first about seeing Tony and about where he was.

"Hey, McGee, welcome back," Tony said.

Tim swallowed and nodded silently, eyes still moving warily about the room.

"I'm under strict orders from Ducky to make you drink some water. Are you thirsty?"

Another nod and Tim began trying to sit up. It was painful to watch and so Tony simply reached out and helped. Tim tensed but didn't protest. He did take the glass from Tony's hands and drank on his own, although he began coughing almost immediately, forcing Tony to rescue it before Tim soaked his blankets.

"You okay?"

Tim coughed a few more times and then nodded mutely again, reaching out for the glass.

"Okay, but drink more carefully this time."

There was a faint smile and Tim took another long drink...but slowly. He drained the glass before letting Tony reclaim it.

"You hungry at all?"

Tim thought about it and shook his head.

"Still thirsty?"

Another shake.

"Okay. You forget how to talk?"

Another small smile as Tim shook his head...without speaking.

"Feeling any better?"

Tim's eyes closed and he nodded, breathing deeply...no doubt remembering in horrible detail just what he was recovering from.

"Is all this worth it?"

"Worth what?" Tim asked, his voice was very soft.

"Ha! I knew I could get you to say something."

Another tentative smile. "Worth what?"

"You having to go through all that with Kort and all."

"I'd go through worse."

"Why?"

"Does it matter? You didn't have to go through it," Tim said.

"Yes, it does matter. I need to understand."

Tim shrugged...but then thought for a moment before asking a question himself. "You ever watch any of the _really _old movies, Tony? You said you're a movie guy. You ever watch the ones before the Descent?"

"Not really. I don't have the equipment for it. Most of them you can only watch in places like this."

"I saw once..." Tim's smile became almost beatific. "...there was a movie of the first time astronauts ever stepped on the moon. It wasn't just a story. It was real."

"Astronauts? What are they?"

"They're people who fly into space."

"Oh, right. The sky. I've seen pictures of that."

"No..." Tim shook his head, staring up now, toward the ceiling...but seeing more than that. "...no, beyond the sky. Up into space where there is no more sky. There's...infinity. These astronauts went to the moon."

"I've heard of the moon, saw a picture once."

"Yeah...and they stepped on the surface for the first time. I remember watching it and...the man who took the first steps, he said...that he was taking one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." He laughed a little self-consciously. "It still gives me chills. Can you imagine being the one to do that? To step on another world for the first time?"

"Not really."

"We have the movie here. I can show you," Tim started to get up and then winced and sank back.

"Later, McGee. I'm not really sure I think all this stuff you're talking about really means anything anyway."

Tim snapped back from the realms of beauty to reality with an unpleasant bump. "You don't?"

"No. I kind of like it down here."

"Then...why did you bother saving me?"

"What do you mean, why? Did you want to stay there?"

"No...but you gave up a lot for me. If you don't think I'm right, why bother?"

"At least I _could_ save _you_."

"What do you mean?"

Tony hitched a shoulder uncomfortably. "My mom was a claustrophobe. I haven't seen her since they hauled her off. I tried to help her stay under control, but...she would go on these rages...and once she got away from me. I don't think Dad ever really forgave me for that...not that _he_ ever bothered to stick around and help."

"They took her away?"

"Yeah. You probably know better than I do what happened to her after that. I'm probably happier not knowing."

Tim only nodded.

"You also know what happens to the families when a claustrophobe is found. I couldn't get a job anywhere when I finished school. I was lucky they didn't kick me out and let me graduate instead." Gingerly, Tony pulled out his NIU badge and rubbed a finger over it. "I can't count the number of times I filled out a job application...only to be rejected. The NIU was the first place to take a chance and hire me. It took me years of getting transferred around to the various parts of the force before I got the chance to be an agent, but they at least hired. No one else would even look twice once they saw that my mother was claustro. You know when you asked me what else I was...besides an NIU agent?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not much else...because the NIU was the one place that I felt accepted for what _I_ could do, rather than what my mother had been."

Tim stared at him, and Tony could have sworn that he almost seemed to shrink as he pulled his knees up to his chest and just stared...like he'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong, McGee?"

"You gave up...your whole life," Tim whispered, horrified. "You gave up everything...and you did it...for me. Why did you–?" Why?"

"I don't understand, McGee. What's the matter? Don't you think you're worth a bit more than a badge?"

"No!" Tim said. "No, I'm not! I'm worth _less_! You...maybe if you were...maybe...if it were Thom you were trying to save, but it wasn't. You don't even believe that what I argue as Thom means anything. _I'm _not worth saving. I'm nothing. I'm a librarian and a singer...and I don't do anything. I don't mean anything. If I were to have died in there or any time before that...only Ducky would have noticed. I'm not worth giving up everything for! I'm not... I'm not worth your life! I'm not worth your life."

He was almost crying and Tony felt even more confused than he had before.

"McGee...you saved your sister from drowning. You apparently defend the library...and the librarian from people who want to destroy them on a regular basis. ...besides...you're a human being. You have a right to live...and no one, not even Agent Kort has the right to do what they were doing to you. That makes you worth saving."

Tim buried his head and began to cry, to sob. His whole body shook.

"McGee, should I go get Ducky?" Tony was a little weirded out by this strange turn of events. He didn't think that saving someone would be so very complicated.

"I'm not human, Tony. I'm not," Tim wept. "I must have been once, but it doesn't seem real. It seems like something that happened in a dream, but I'm not human and I'm not worth saving. Do you know the kinds of things I did when I was at MIT?" He looked up, tears running down his cheeks. "Do you know the person you saved is a murderer? No, I never physically killed anyone but it was my fault. I made it possible."

"What are you talking about?"

"When they tried to arrest Ducky...I could have killed every single one of them...and I would have if they hadn't let him go. I would have done it...because I know it would have worked...because...because they made do it." He leaned forward. "I didn't want to do it. I really didn't and I didn't know what they'd do with it...but I did it."

"What did you do?" Tony didn't really want to know...but at the same time he was wondering what in the world could have made Tim think he was so worthless.

"They tell you what to do and you do it. There's no choice...there isn't even the _thought_ of a choice. You just do it, even if you hate it...and they gave me an assignment...to write a program that could be used to...to...kill people from a distance. I made a program that would insert a tracking code into a person's wristband and then, using the electrical system that runs through the city...they could...send a burst that would basically electrocute the person with the code. I wrote it...and then...then, I found out that they were testing it...on innocent people! They were...taking people from places where they wouldn't be noticed...places where..." Tim hid his face again as his tears overwhelmed him. Tony reached out to touch him but at the slightest contact Tim pulled away. "...like where they took the...the claustrophobes."

Tony froze.

"They tested it on–?" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Yes! Yes! ...but I didn't know they were going to do that! I didn't know...but it wouldn't have made any difference because I wasn't...I couldn't make a choice! ...but they still died because of me! Innocent people die because of me...and I'm not worth anyone else's life. I'm not." Tim began to shake with the sobs that racked his body. He was nearly hysterical and Tony stood ready to run and get Ducky when the strangest thing happened. Tim suddenly took a long deep breath and the tears stopped, the crying stopped, the shaking stopped. Tony watched as the emotional pain drained away leaving nothing behind.

...and finally, Tony understood why Tim didn't want to face the emotions. He hadn't _ever_ faced them and doing so, with the life he had been forced to lead, would be worse than the tortured he'd suffered at Kort's hands.

"I'm tired, Tony," he said. "I think I'm going to go back to sleep." Then, Tim lay down and rolled over so that his back was to Tony.

"Okay...Tim. Okay. I'll go and get a book or something." He started to walk away, but stopped when Tim spoke once more.

"Thank you, Tony."

"You're welcome."

Perhaps the emotions weren't as deeply buried this time...maybe someone else could keep them from going any deeper.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ducky?"

Ducky only awakened reluctantly. He had been more tired than he had thought previously and had fallen asleep as soon as he had lay down.

"Yes, Anthony?" he asked, yawning.

"There's something weird going on with McGee."

Sighing, Ducky opened his eyes and sat up, facing a very worried expression. "If Timothy is ever _not_ a little weird, I will be surprised."

"I was talking with him and...and he said that he didn't deserve to be saved and...and he told me something that he'd done...and he was crying and everything...but then, he just stopped."

"Stopped?"

"Yeah. It was the creepiest thing I've ever seen in my life. He was completely freaking out, Ducky, and then he took a breath and was almost...almost dead... I've never seen anything like that before."

Now, Ducky was fully awake. He had been afraid of this happening but he had desperately hoped it wouldn't since Tim had allowed himself to feel _something_.

"He is trying to go back to how he was. He is trying to prevent himself from feeling anything. Well, I am _tired_ of it. This will _not_ happen again." He stood, not tired any longer. "Anthony, would you come and assist me...perhaps be ready to hold Timothy back should he feel the urge to attack?"

"He wouldn't hurt you, Ducky."

"I'm afraid he might," Ducky said and pointed to a small white scar on his cheek. "Do you see this?"

"Yeah."

"This scar is what remains from Timothy hitting me in the face ten years ago. He tries not to deal with his emotions, but on certain occasions he has to and he loses control. It frightens him and if he could just realize that letting it out and then continuing to deal with it would prevent a recurrence...but he doesn't. He just doesn't understand how emotions work anymore. He was so young when they took him and made him think that emotions were grounds for punishment. Even if he thinks they might be wrong, he can't seem to make himself believe it and take the chance."

"You think he will now?"

"Yes."

"Why now?"

"Because I will not accept anything less this time. This pattern he has been following cannot work any longer. I allowed it before because it was at least giving him some substance of existence and I hoped he would work through it on his own, but the situation we are currently in means that we cannot wait for him to find the courage himself."

Tony straightened as Ducky began to walk. "Will forcing him really work?"

"I can't actually force him. I can just keep him from engaging in the kind of activity he will desire in order to cut himself off from the rest of humanity. Given no other outlet, it will have to be expressed. Too much has happened in too short a time for Timothy to be able to hold it in."

"I hope you're right."

Ducky stopped at the door to Tim's room and looked back at Tony.

"So do I."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Tim lay on his side. The physical pain was almost entirely gone...but now, he wished it was back. He wished he could lose himself somehow, run away from what Tony had told him, what he'd been forced to relate. He didn't want to remember those things. He didn't want that part of his life to exist. Normally, it didn't. He just ignored it, but it was getting harder to do that. It kept coming up. It kept pushing at the borders he placed in his mind. It would lie quiescent while he was lying there.

_I could go and work on the computer. My terminal is here. There are lots of things I could do, lots I _need_ to do. I don't have to think about this now._

Steeling himself, Tim struggled to sit up, amazed at how enervated he still felt...like he was a rung out towel...limp. If he could only walk to the computer. It was worth a try. He had to clamp down on the memories, the _knowledge_ of what he'd done, had to push it away. Trembling, he pushed himself to the edge of the cot and began to stand. He was totally surprised by the heavy hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"No, Timothy. You will _not_ do this again. I won't _let_ you, not when you've broken out once."

Tim couldn't bear to look up at Ducky, at someone else whose life had been ruined by him.

"I have things to do, Ducky."

"No, you don't." Ducky's voice was one of repressed frustration. "No, Timothy. What you _want_ to do is hide yourself away again, and you can't, not anymore. Not when you've shown that the emotions exist. You let them out! Now, you can't hide them away again. It is time to really face the world!"

"I can't," Tim whispered. "I can't do that. I don't know how."

"It's not about knowing _how_. It's about _letting_ it happen. You have nothing you have to do except for allow the feelings to exist."

"I don't know how to do that, Ducky. I don't."

"You do. You're just afraid of them."

Tim gripped the edges of the bed and shook his head. "No."

"Yes, Timothy."

Tim tried to stand up again. Again, Ducky pushed him back down.

"You will not run away from this. I have spent too long watching you destroy yourself from the inside out. I will not watch any longer."

Tim shook his head and tried to get away...but he wasn't strong enough.

"We have both changed since your..._graduation_, Timothy. You may choose to hit me again."

Tim winced.

"But I will not stand by as I have. I saw you express your pain. I saw you suffer...and you will suffer worse than you did at Kort's hands if you insist on trying to ignore the emotional pain again. You can't do that anymore, Timothy!"

"Please, Ducky, let me go."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

It was pure agony being forced to sit there, remembering everything, feeling it all pushing to come out.

"The last time I...let it out...I hurt you. I don't want to hurt you again."

"Then, don't. I assure you that I'll be ready to duck this time."

"It's not funny, Ducky."

"No, it's not. It's tragic that you are letting your fear destroy you."

"I can't feel. I can't do it. I can't let it all out. I can't. I can't do it."

"Yes, you can. You already have once. You just need to continue on as you have begun."

Tim shook his head again. "No!"

He heard someone enter.

"I heard shouting. Is there something wrong?"

"Go away!" Tim shouted. He didn't want to see Ziva, someone who filled him both with that despairing longing for someone who was gone forever and with anger at her betrayal. He again tried to stand up. "Go away!"

Ducky grabbed him by both shoulders this time and shoved him back down on the bed.

"Timothy, you can_not_ continue like this! You _know_ it is wrong!"

"Let me go!" Tim shouted at him. "Leave me alone! Don't make me do this!"

"They did this to you, but you don't have to succumb to it. Fight the injunction to hide your emotions as you have the laws that have prevented your escape. You've been fighting. You know you can fight this as well!"

"No!" Tears were welling up in Tim's eyes even as he protested.

If Ducky had tried a few hours later, he would have failed. Tim would have been recovered enough to rely on his own will to hold everything at bay...but now, he was too near to breaking down as it was. Tears came, but when Tim's control began to break, the anger was released first (as always), blinding in its intensity and Tim didn't see the people in the room. He saw the people who had controlled him, the people who had destroyed him, who had ripped his humanity from him from the time he was a child, all through the years when most people are learning what being a human being means.

"You ruined my life!" he screamed. "You took everyone away from me! You...you couldn't even let me be happy! I don't want to be smart anymore! Let me stop! Let me stop! Don't make me do that!" He gripped the edge of the bed in tight fists, feeling the menacing presence always behind him, ready to punish him for failing. "I hate you! I hate you!"

Ducky said nothing...and Tim didn't really see him anyway. He was lost in the fury that had always been encouraged. Part of him knew that Ducky was there, that no one was there who wanted to hurt him, but, while he wanted to stop, he couldn't find the strength to control the rage pouring out of him. ...and he hated Ducky for putting him through this. He wanted to make him stop. He wanted to make him leave him alone. He pulled against those hands on his shoulders but he couldn't get away. He began to fight those hands and found others holding him back, voices in his ears as he screamed his rage at the damage they had done to him.

Then, at the back of his mind, a thought arose, from deep inside.

_Why are you acting like this? _They're_ the ones who wanted you to be angry. Look at what you're doing. _

It made too much sense and Tim tried to stop shouting, but behind the anger were other emotions he couldn't handle. Again, the same small mental voice again made a point.

_Ducky's right. He usually is. You can't keep hiding from yourself. ...where can you go to really hide anyway?_

"I want to die," Tim whimpered.

_And leave everyone to fix the mess you've made? Coward._

The fight ebbed out of him, leaving a momentary calm. The hands holding him back disappeared.

_That's better. Now, face up to what you've done._

Tim had a good memory...perhaps not perfect, but it was very difficult for him to forget things. They generally stayed in his head, coming out at inopportune moments. He didn't want to remember them.

_Tell them all what a horrible person you are, how weak-willed and how you hide behind a name and how you never had the courage to show Sarah how much you loved her, how you'll never be able to now, how you've allowed yourself to remain in their control. Tell them!_

Tim felt as though he couldn't breathe beneath the weight as all those memories began smothering him.

"It's all right, lad. Let it out."

The voice, Ducky's voice. It was a real voice, not just the one in his head.

_Listen to him. Let it all out._

"Can't...can't..."

"You can."

"No. Make it stop."

_What kind of a life do you have right now? Do you really want to live with yourself like this? Do you really want to disdain all the sacrifices people have made for you just because it's a little uncomfortable?_

"I never loved Sarah," Tim said and began to sob, feeling his whole body shake until he thought that he'd fall to pieces. "I never wanted to."

Now, instead of hands, he felt arms around him, holding him tightly.

_Keep going._

"I never let...I did what they wanted me to do. I became what they wanted. I'm just a machine! I'm nothing! I'm a coward!"

_Not done yet._

Tim felt a bone-deep weariness that only got worse as he continued to cry for the life he had, the life he had lost...the things he had done. It all hurt so much that he didn't think he could bear it.

_You can. Keep it up. Better to die being truly alive than to live and be dead._

Tim wasn't sure he believed that...but he didn't have the energy to stop the flood and so he just tried to breathe.

"It's all right, Timothy. It's all right."

"Not all right. Not all right. Hurts. Make it stop!"

"_This is your next assignment."_

"_Thank you. How long?"_

"_Four hours."_

"_I need more..."_

"_Four hours. You will regret it if you don't succeed."_

"_Four hours."_

_That wasn't the worst one. You know that._

"I can't keep remembering!"

"I'm right here, Timothy. You're not alone."

_Being alone is worse. Remember being alone? ...being surrounded and being alone?_

"Always alone."

"You're never alone."

"No one else...can't understand. No more Sarah. Gone. Forever...and I never said. I pushed her away just like everyone."

"She understood."

"No she didn't."

_Of course she didn't. How could she understand what you never took the time to explain?_

"I never said. Never. Not once."

Tim felt more pain knowing he'd never told Sarah he loved her than he had from the NIU poison. He felt as though he was suffocating, choking on the agony, choking on the searing pain.

"Come on, Timothy. You can breathe. You know you can."

How could Ducky be so calm when Tim felt like he was dying?

_Because he knows you're not dying. He knows you're just reacting weakly to what real human beings face every day of their lives._

"_Timmy, why don't you ever tuck me in? Like Mom and Dad?"_

"_I'm not Mom and Dad. I have to focus on school. Just like you."_

"_I love you, Tim."_

"_Good night, Sarah."_

"Can we do anything, Ducky?"

"No. This is Timothy's fight. We can only be there to help him when he wins."

Wins? Tim wasn't winning. His life was killing him.

_No, it's not._

"_I want a job here."_

"_Do you?"_

"_Yes. I need you to hire me."_

"_Can you say please?"_

"_No."_

"_You can't say please?"_

"_No. I can't. I need a job here. Will you or will you not hire me?"_

Tim wept so many tears that he couldn't understand why he still had any moisture left. Didn't one run out eventually? He was gasping for air.

"_So what do you sing?"_

"_I sing the things no one wants to think about."_

"_Meaning?"_

"_I sing about the surface, being free."_

_Exactly. Isn't that what you really want? Isn't that what you want for everyone?_

"No. It's not. I don't care about everyone."

"Yes, you do."

_You do care. You just don't have any hope that it will make a difference._

"It can't make a difference. No one cares."

"Yes, they do."

_Yes, they do. Don't do them such an injustice. See things as they really are, not as you believe them to be._

"_Tim, please talk to us. What's happening to you?"_

"_Nothing. It's school, Mom. It's just school."_

"_No. No, you're lying, Tim, and I don't know why you are!"_

"_What are they doing to you there?"_

"_Education."_

"_I don't like that education...it's changed you."_

"_I'm growing up."_

"_No, you're not."_

"_Leave me alone."_

"Leave me alone."

"No, Timothy. I won't."

"Not you. Them...and they did."

"Who?"

_What did you expect when you refused to talk?_

"_Timmy, where are you going?"_

"_Go away, Sarah."_

"_Timmy, I miss you!"_

"Go away."

"Who, Timothy?"

"I hated them. They couldn't help. No one could."

Tim was surprised he could speak so clearly when he felt so fractured.

_What's the real problem? It's not all this stuff. You know what it is. So say it._

"It's not fair!" He shouted the words as loudly as he could, choking on them, spewing them out like venom. It wasn't fair. Nothing in his life had been fair and he had never had a real say in what happened to him, not from the time he was eight years old and he hated it. He hated being the one who was smart. He hated being the one who was used. He hated that he had survived but lived maimed. ...and above all, he hated that he was entombed in the rock more than a mile below where mankind should be and he couldn't get out. He _hated_ it. It wasn't fair.

_Exactly._

"It's not fair," he wept.

"_We love you, Tim. We always will...but you need to tell us what's wrong."_

"I couldn't tell them. They couldn't have helped...It's not fair."

"No, they couldn't...but they were ready to try. That's why I was gone. I was investigating their worries."

Tim became aware of the arms around him again. He became aware of his own hands, clenched into fists. He became aware of the presence of others. He became aware of himself...of something missing that had always been there...

...and he became aware that he was so worn down he could barely hold his head up. Only the arms were keeping him from falling over.

"Do you feel any better, Timothy?"

"No."

He heard a soft laugh.

"Do you feel worse?"

"No."

"What do you feel?"

"I'm so tired."

"Then, I'll let you sleep."

"I don't want to be alone."

"I will stay with you, Tim."

Tim nodded and his body began to cant to the left. He felt Ducky's arms gently laying him back down on the bed.

"Your parents loved you, Timothy. They knew that you had that same feeling somewhere inside."

"Not enough."

"No, I suppose not...but it will have to be because there's no changing it. No matter how much we might want to."

Tim opened his eyes, eyes which he did not remember closing, and looked up at Ducky. A blurred image from the tears still in his eyes.

"Can I ever be human again?"

"Yes." Ducky's voice held no reserve. He was certain.

"Okay." Tim let his eyes close again.

Then, he heard Ducky's voice, soft, by his ear. "Let this be the beginning, Timothy...don't make it the end."

"Help me, Ducky."

"You had but to ask."

_Don't lie to him. You've started...don't back down._

"It's so hard."

"I know, lad, but it's worth it."

"Are you sure?"

"Never more than at this moment."

_It's worth it. Try._

"I'll try."

"Good. Sleep for now. You won't be alone."

Tim shook his head even as sleep pulled him away. "I'm always alone...just not always...by myself."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

As Ziva took Ducky's vacated seat, she looked back at him as he began to leave. For the first time since she'd met him, he looked old.

"Are you all right, Ducky?" she asked.

"I'm tired, Ziva..." He looked at Tim's sleeping form. "...and I'm afraid that all this will be for nothing. That has been the case before."

It was hard to hear Ducky sound so hopeless.

"He will fight. If I have learned anything from Thom, it is that he is a fighter," Ziva said.

"So is Tim," Tony said. "He wouldn't be alive otherwise."

Ducky smiled a little. "He fights, but he never thinks he can win. A hopeless fight is almost worse than not fighting at all. ...almost. It pains me to see him so broken, and like Timothy, I have almost forgotten what he was like when he was whole. It was so long ago."

Ziva stood, but Ducky shook his head and waved her back down.

"I am going to reclaim my cot and try to get a good...day's sleep. You may pester me again if there is any trouble."

Ziva watched him go and met Tony's gaze.

"I will stay with him. You do not have to."

Tony just walked in and sat down on another chair. "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you apparently gave up everything."

"So did you all. Why are you surprised that I have as well?"

"Why _did_ you?"

Ziva looked at Tim. He was still pale, but there was a kind of repose in his expression which had been lacking before.

"What is that doll?"

"I think it was his sister's."

Ziva nodded.

"I gave up everything because Kort was wrong," Tony said.

"Wrong about what? Tim McGee _is_ Thom the Gem."

"But what he was doing was wrong, and you know it. No one deserves to be treated like that...and besides, even if McGee's bonkers, that's no reason to take him and torture him. People don't deserve that."

Ziva didn't respond, choosing instead to remain gazing at Tim.

"Your turn."

"What?"

"I told you why I gave up everything. Your turn."

"Because Thom is right."

"You mean Tim?"

"No. I mean Thom. I know Thom much better. I read his words in order to understand him, in order to figure out where to look for him. ...but even then, I looked in the wrong place. ...but what Thom says is true...and that is why I gave up everything, because Thom is right and when I joined the NIU, I vowed to uphold the law and protect the right. This time, upholding the law conflicted with protecting what was right. I chose right over law."

"Do you regret it?"

"Perhaps."

"Was it worth it?"

"I do not know."

"What are you going to do?"

"I do not know that either," she confessed, although it hurt her to say it. "I made no plans beyond trying to help him get away. I suppose I did not expect to survive the attempt. It would have been easier to die."

"Yeah, but a lot less fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah. I haven't had this much fun since...I don't know when."

"You think this is fun?"

"Oh, come on! Admit it, chopping that guy's wrist and knocking him out gave you a little teeny thrill."

Ziva glared at Tony. He was not being serious enough for the situation...but then, against her will, she felt a desire to smile. Her glare twitched and she forced herself to stop looking at him because she was irritated.

"I saw that!" Tony said, gleefully. "I knew I was right! Well, if Tim...Thom...Elf Lord...whatever...if the guy sleeping there gives you any trouble, I'll be in the Sound Room. Supposedly, there are some movies there I need to see."

"Movies?"

"Recommended by the one and only."

Tony walked out and Ziva watched him go before looking at Tim again. Was this worth it? Was saving one man worth giving up everything else? Ziva reached out and wiped away one of the many tears on Tim's face.

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, Tim, it is worth it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Do you understand? Can you possibly understand the potential we have? Mankind, before the Descent, had reached the moon, had reached Mars. We had pictures of the farthest corners of the universe. Scientists spent their whole lives examining the structure of the universe in detail. What do we have here? What do we study? Do scientists even really exist in this day and age? No. No, they don't. What exist are slaves to the government and practical researchers. I'm not denigrating them. Their work is important...but it is not enough. Mankind only thrives when it is reaching for more. We stagnate when we can't grow._

_I see this potential. I see it in the people on the street. I see it in them...but the problem is that they can't see it in themselves. They are contented to be what they are. They are contented with their prison. They are content with the flickering light casting shadows when they could have reality._

_Can't you see it? Look beyond the shadows! See the light! I beg you to look and see more! That is the way we can _be_ more. We have to see that it is possible first. It's not easy to see more in a world so bleak and empty as ours is...but progress is our destiny, our potential. Without it, the world really is dark and empty._

_Don't accept the world you see. Strive upwards for the light. Enlarge your soul. Enlighten your mind._

_Be more._

With an exhalation that was almost a sigh, Gibbs closed the book he'd been reading. It was illuminating, as Tobias had said it would be, although he still wasn't sure he could believe in either cause. That they were both committed to something more than themselves was obvious. That they both believed in what they were doing was indisputable. That they were right? Much more nebulous. Could the world be in as dire straits as both men believed? He couldn't accept that without proof, something that neither man had given. Oh, they had indicated that they had it, but they hadn't given it. He didn't blame them for that. Telling the data meant telling where the data came from which would give those tracking them a much easier time of finding them.

Even so, Gibbs wasn't prepared to let that slide.

What he couldn't reconcile, however, was the evidence of deep-rooted corruption that he had seen with his own eyes. The geniuses, the whole education program...all of it demonstrated a callous indifference for the rights of human beings. Kort's treatment of Tim was nothing new, more vindictive, crueller perhaps, but it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.

But Tobias had asked an important question: what was he going to do?

He didn't know.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby didn't hear Tobias return from his investigation of the source of the shouting. She was sitting with Erin...reading her a story. It was strange for Abby because she didn't really read _books_. She read from the computer, she read updates on the news broadcasts, but physical, hold-in-your-hands, inky books? No. She couldn't remember the last time she had read a book. Besides that, she wasn't used to reading children's stories to an adult.

"'She wept and lamented but all in vain, for go he must. Then, she asked him if she could not go with him. But no, that could not be. 'Can you tell me the way then, and I will seek you – that I may surely be allowed to do!'"

"'Yes, you may do that,' said he; 'but there is no way thither. It lies east of the sun and west of the moon, and never would you find your way there.'"

Abby looked up, startled. Tobias smiled.

"It was her favorite story when she was little...before they took her away." He sat down and looked at his daughter, who was simply staring into empty space. "_East of the Sun and West of the Moon_. She always loved it even though she didn't know what the sun and the moon were."

"Do you want to finish it?"

In one of her rare gestures, Erin reached out and smiled. "Yes, Daddy. Tell the story."

Tobias smiled, although his eyes glistened. "Of course I will." He didn't take the book from Abby but instead simply started reciting it. "When she awoke in the morning both the Prince and the castle were gone, and she was lying on a small green patch in the midst of a dark, thick wood..."

Abby wondered how he had it memorized but then realized that he'd been in this library for twenty years. It couldn't get _that_ busy. She sat back and listened...but mostly watched. Erin's flashes of humanity existed mostly in the context of her relationship with her father, but those flashes were really of a little girl, not a grown woman. It was as if her life had stopped at age eight and never continued...until now. Now, when she was dying. Abby listened until the "happily ever after" came about and watched as Tobias tenderly kissed Erin's forehead.

"I'm tired, Daddy."

"Then, sleep, dearest. Dream."

"What should I dream of?"

Abby heard Tobias' voice catch. "Dream of the stars, Erin. Dream of dancing in the stars."

The smile returned and Erin's eyes closed.

"I'll dream of the stars."

Tobias didn't turn around until he'd wiped his eyes.

"Thank you for being with her, Agent Sciuto."

"You can call me Abby. I doubt I'm an agent anymore...and I don't think I want to be, not after all this stuff I've found."

"Thank you, Abby."

Abby shook her head, feeling tears of her own. "No, I...I wanted to help. Did you know that when I was little I _wanted_ to be one of...one of them?"

"So did Erin. That's the only reason we got her tested...but I found out too late what her fate would be. I couldn't save her, could barely save myself. At least...at least I'll get to say good-bye. It won't be much longer, I don't think. She's been sleeping more than she's been awake."

"I'm so sorry, Tobias. I really am."

"Not your fault...nor anyone's...at least no one who's here." His band beeped. "Oh, that'll be my contact. Would you mind staying with her for a little longer?"

"Not at all. I'll read some more of these fairytales."

"At least they all have happy endings."

"Erin's is happier than she would have been. _She's_ happy. That's got to count for something."

"Yeah...just not very much." Tobias swallowed and walked out of the room.

Abby looked at Erin and sighed.

"I wish there was magic, Erin. You could be brought back to life."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Talk to me, Stan. What's going on over there?"_

"You owe me so big," Stan said, checking back over his shoulder to make sure he was still on his own. With Kort off checking things, he was reasonably secure...but he didn't want to take any chances.

"_I know that already. What did you do to earn it this time?"_

"You all right? You sound a little–"

"_Just tell me."_

"Okay. Okay. I made one of the transports disappear and made it look as though Mallard and McGee made a run for it...through the tunnels. With McGee's computer skills, I'm guessing Kort didn't waste any time questioning the fact that they can't see it on any of the monitors."

"_I do owe you. I'd been wondering why Kort wasn't assaulting the library."_

"I can't guarantee that felicitous state'll last forever."

"_It won't but that's given us some breathing room...and we need it."_

"Some of the others are getting anxious."

"_I'm sure they are. We'll be moving within the week, but I've got to make sure that Tim is safe first...relatively speaking."_

"Anything you need me to do?"

"_Watch your back."_

"As always." Stan disconnected and double-checked the status of the pursuit. They hadn't connected the dots yet, for which he was grateful. Gibbs and team being AWOL hadn't come to anyone's attention just yet, although it would eventually. He thought briefly about Kate, so perfectly positioned for her part in the revolution...and probably in the most _dangerous_ position if anything went wrong.

Come to think of it, he hadn't spoken to her in a long while...and a guy could call his wife any time. He smiled and punched in her code.

"_Kate Todd."_

"I really think you should reconsider taking my last name. You'd sound a lot tougher. Kate _Burley_."

"_Stan!"_ The pleasure in her voice was unfeigned. _"What's going on?"_

"What's going on? Does a man need an excuse to talk to his wife?"

"_No. Of course not...but I was wondering if talking was all you had in mind...and I'm on duty in five minutes."_

Stan chuckled. "Tempting, but no. How much longer?"

"_Well, the meetings have been delayed...as usual. I think I'll be here at least another two weeks."_

"Maybe a week will break it."

"_A week?"_ Kate's voice took on an excited note for just a moment. _"You must be dreaming, dearie. These guys don't stop talking. Not _ever_."_

"Not even Hegemon Lee?"

"_Well, she's still new to the position. She wasn't supposed to become Hegemon for years...but her father died."_

Stan knew all this, of course, but their code didn't allow for too much elaboration. "She's keeping to herself?"

"_Mostly. Still looking for the right time to speak out."_

"Well, I'll cross my fingers for a week. Love you."

"_I love you."_

"Bye." Stan disconnected and thought about it. Only one Hegemon on their side. It wasn't unexpected, but he did wish that Michelle Lee had managed to convince one of the others. She was so very young to be in a position of such power.

Another agent stuck his head into Stan's office. "Psst! Stan! Agent on the warpath!"

"Thanks, Langer," Stan said and hurriedly pulled back to his terminal before Kort reappeared.

To all intents and purposes, Stan was searching for a break. Finding Tim was the only thing that mattered right now...at least as far as Kort was concerned. He didn't stay long in Stan's office before moving on to hassle someone else.

Once he was gone, Stan gave a small sigh of relief. It was like living in a barrel full of crawlers. You just had to hope that there was something else they wanted to devour more than you.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy closed his eyes tightly in the darkness. He could take his medication, but the first couple of hours were always so unpleasant. It wasn't too bad yet. Maybe this time, it would just fade away. They often did.

A deep breath. Another deep breath.

_Don't think about it. That only makes it worse._

He wished he was back in his room at Ducky's place. Better yet, he wished he was back in the sea colony. That had been the best place for him...which was why his parents had moved there.

Deep breaths.

There was a soft click as the door opened...and another soft click as it closed again.

"Uncle Don?"

"No."

"Who is it?" he asked, his voice choked with fear. The room was pitch black and he didn't recognize the speaker.

"Shh. Lay down."

"Who are you?"

"Let's just say I know what's going on."

Jimmy hesitated and then lay down and felt gentle hands on his head begin to massage his scalp and temples. It didn't get rid of the fear completely but it relaxed him and helped him calm down to a manageable level. He might even be able to sleep.

"That's it. Remember that it's all in your head...and your head is relaxed."

Jimmy laughed softly...which in turn released more of the tension. As he drifted off to sleep, he tried once more.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who gets it."

For now, that was good enough. He'd recognize the voice if he heard it again.

Jimmy slept.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Tim awakened feeling almost normal...well, as normal as he _ever_ got. The agonies were waiting in the wings...but they _were_ waiting rather than assaulting. That was something. He wasn't sure if it was enough, but it was something. He hadn't seen the librarian since he'd come back here, though, and he needed to understand the meaning behind his altered appearance. When he opened his eyes, he saw Ziva there, but she was asleep. It was very nice of her to stay with him...but right now, there was only one person he needed to see.

Quietly, he eased himself out of bed, was relieved to discover that he could stand, feeling only a modicum of weakness. There was still an edge that told him the pain was ready to return if he exerted himself too much but it was a start.

He managed to get out of his room without waking Ziva up and began stumbling toward the front desk. He had no idea what time it was, no idea where to look for anyone. He just figured that they were all in there somewhere. ...but he couldn't find the librarian.

Then, he passed by the wall containing his hideaway. There was time. He stopped and opened it. There was his latest book...and his family pictures...and Sarah. Trembling, he pulled out the image of his little sister and felt the tears...tears he didn't want to shed but tears he didn't feel he could legitimately hide away. They ran down his cheeks and he felt the anguish anew.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah," he whispered. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"I knew you hid things in here...but I never guessed inside the rock wall."

Tim jumped and turned quickly. Too quickly. He had to reach out and steady himself on a shelf.

"Whoa, sorry to scare you, Tim," the librarian said. "Actually, you're looking like death warmed over. Come on. You should probably eat something."

Tim shook his head.

"Yeah, I figured as much. You guys never eat much, but you still need to. I don't have exciting rations but I have plenty of them. Come on."

Tim acquiesced but he kept staring.

"I'll tell you the story of my face change, Tim, but you need to eat first."

The librarian led Tim to the small cafeteria and sat him down before serving him a simple meal of cooked cereal.

"Don't eat too fast. What the NIU used on you was probably the worst they had...at least of the stuff that wouldn't kill you right away. The antidote Ducky used helped, but the poison on its own did some damage that an antidote can't fix. It'll have to heal in the usual way...with time. That means some difficulties with your digestive system."

Tim stared at the bowl.

"You have to actually ingest the stuff, Tim. Strange, I know, but it's true."

Reluctantly, Tim took a spoonful. He winced a little as it hit his weakened stomach, but he also felt suddenly how hungry he was and shoved another spoonful in his mouth before the librarian pulled his hand down.

"I said _slowly_, Tim. I know it's been too long since you ate, but you'll only hurt yourself if you overdo it now...and I'm pretty sure that Ducky would kill me if I let you do that."

Tim felt the wisdom of that and nodded.

"Who are you?"

"The librarian."

"Who."

"My name is Tobias. Fornell. I was an NIU agent twenty years ago. They took my daughter, Erin, away when they realized that she was a genius. They killed my ex-wife and tried to kill me. They failed to kill me. I've been hiding out here and I'm ready to start a revolution...thanks in part to you."

"Thanks to me?"

"Yes."

Still feeling strangely stupid, Tim realized what else Tobias had said. "Erin?"

"My daughter."

"Erin's your daughter?"

"Yeah."

"Her last name is Kendall."

"Her mother's maiden name."

"Oh. I knew her...sort of...before."

"When?"

"In school. All the computer geniuses were educated at the same academy," Tim said, stirring the cereal around in the bowl.

"Take another bite, Tim," Tobias suggested.

Tim did so, swallowing very slowly. It still hurt but he was still hungry.

"How did you know her?"

"I'd been there a couple of years already. They'd..." Tim looked away.

"You don't have to tell me what they did to you. I have a pretty good idea."

"Well, they kept us separated. People can find support with fellow sufferers. But they couldn't isolate us completely and once, right after the new group had come, they walked me past their rooms. Most of them were crying." Tim closed his eyes, remembering his own feelings. "That first week, when you suddenly know that this isn't really a school..." He shuddered and took a shaky breath. "Erin wasn't crying. She was singing a song I'd never heard before, about things I didn't know."

"'Twinkle, twinkle, little star'?" Tobias asked.

"Yeah. I was so surprised to hear something that wasn't miserable or frightened that I stopped. I got in trouble for that. Erin probably did, too. I never heard her sing again, but I did ask her once why she did."

"How did you do that if you didn't get to see her?"

Tim finally found a smile. "Through the computers. We're geniuses after all. Actually, she found me. She sent a message to everyone through the computers, asking who we were. We talked a little through that year. She said that she sang because her dad...you, I guess...had told her to sing when she was afraid and she wouldn't be afraid anymore."

"I'm surprised she remembered, considering the circumstances."

"We don't forget," Tim said. "Good and bad. Doesn't matter. We don't forget it. She's the only one I ever knew who didn't cry."

"Did you?"

"Like a baby...until I stopped and just did what they told me to do. It made it easier."

"What easier?"

"Pretending that I was alive, that it was a nightmare I could wake up from, that I'd open my eyes and be home...with my family." Tim shrugged and took another bite. Swallowing it past the lump in his throat was difficult. He forced a smile. "Still haven't woken up."

"What happened?"

"After a few months, they realized what we were doing. We were all punished for it and the computers were isolated. Erin tried once more...but no one answered her that time. Not me, not anyone. We didn't want to be punished again. She was a strong one. I didn't recognize her until...until I heard her sing that song again. And I knew when I saw her what was going to happen. I'm sorry she's dying. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. To be honest, I figured she was already dead. I sent her messages for a while but I didn't think she'd really get them." Tobias shrugged.

Tim looked back down at the bowl, took another bite and winced a little. They sat together silently while Tim slowly tried to eat the simple meal. Then, he went back to their previous conversation.

"Why did you say that you're ready to start a revolution thanks to me?"

"Because it's true."

"I've _never_ called for a revolution!" Tim said, looking up angrily. "I don't want people to die for me!"

"You don't? Well, they are."

Tim dropped his spoon. It missed the bowl and ended up splattering cereal on the table. He pushed his chair away from the table.

"No! That's not what I want!"

Tobias gave him a pitying look. "What did you expect to have happen, Tim? You tell people wonderful things about the possibilities of the surface. You tell them that we're dying down here because we're being beat down by our leaders and you don't think that they'll make the obvious connection?"

Tim closed his eyes again. Images of all those people dying because of him. It was a horrible sight. Horrible, wrong...and of his making. He felt hands on his shoulders, hands that felt a lot like Ducky's...but weren't. Tears came to his eyes, tears he couldn't suppress. He'd promised Ducky that he would try. They trickled down his cheeks.

"You're pretty messed up, aren't you, Tim. I haven't seen this much emotion from you in the last decade...even if you added it all up together."

Tim tried to pull away and the immediate need to get rid of the painful emotions was almost overpowering. Fornell's voice changed.

"Hey...you really didn't even imagine that, did you."

Tim shook his head. "I just...wanted people to be free. _I_ want to be free."

"That's what I want, too...but Tim, you've got to know that the government won't allow you...or anyone else, to get up there. Remember last year? A family tried to make it up to the surface in a modified float? They were shot down, all dead. The government isn't going to _let_ anyone do something that might destabilize their power. You've got to see that. You're too smart for this kind of naivete."

Tim kept his eyes closed.

"But you're like Erin...more than I expected, even after knowing you for ten years. You're still a little kid, still that eight-year-old boy who thinks that he can wake up from the dream and have everything be okay." His voice wasn't derogatory, but it still was painful. "Tim, it's not that way. Some things can't just go away. Sometimes, the bad has to come before the good. The real horror has to end before the nightmare can end."

"I didn't want anyone to die."

"No one wants people to die...but it happens. Do you have any idea how wide your readership is?"

"I know exactly how many people I send my books to."

"I'm sure you do, but do you even try to figure out how much further it gets spread?"

Tim shook his head. He hadn't been able to open his eyes yet. He was shaking.

"Well, let me tell you something. You're probably one of the most widely read authors in the world. People talk about what you say. In whispers...but they talk. No wonder the government wants to take you out. People _listen_ to you, Tim. People read what you have to say and they _believe_ you...because you're honest, because you're not trying to sell them the line that everything will be perfect. If you asked them to, they'd follow where you led. Some of them are following where they _think_ you're leading already. You can't change that. Once you decided to take a stand and make a cause, you were asking people to do something about it. I don't necessarily think you're right about needing to get to the surface, but whether you like it or not, Tim, you're advocating the fall of the government."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are...because that's the _only_ way people are going to be able to be free to get to the surface, if that's what they want to do. It's not going to happen with the Hegemony in control. The Hegemons aren't going to allow it. They'll kill whoever tries to leave. In fact, more people will die trying to get to the surface with the Hegemony in place than will with another government."

"I don't want people to die. I don't want anyone to die, not because of me."

The hands disappeared and Tim opened his eyes, staring down into his lap.

"I can't tell you that you should have thought of the consequences of what you wrote, Tim...but I can tell you to think about the future of what you're doing. You can't step back now. It's been too long. It's been too _long_! You have been telling people the same things ever since you started writing. You can't back out now. You can't just publish another book. The revolution is coming whether you want it or not. If we win, you'll benefit from it. If we lose, I don't know what will happen to us, to you...to the world...but things are going to change. The only real question is...are they going to change for the better or for the worse? And what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

"That's been the same answer most of you are giving. You don't know. You don't seem to get how important it is to have a _plan_! I've been making plans for so long, it's a good thing I can store them all away. You have to think of _something_! I'll help you, so long as it doesn't conflict with what I'm doing...but you can't hide out in the library anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because the only reason you were able to do that for so long was because _I_ was looking the other way. I'm coming out of hiding, Tim. Your hiding place is compromised. As soon as Kort realizes you and Ducky haven't fled the city, he's going to put two and two together and come up with the Avenue library. Not even _your_ security can stand up to the full might of the NIU." Tobias stood, walked around behind Tim and gently pushed his chair back to the table. "Eat that slowly...but you should really eat it all." Then, he began to walk out.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Planning to take down the government, helping me...why?"

"Revolution? Because it needs to happen. We won't get change any other way. Helping you? Because you're a good person, Tim. You're someone who has faced down the worst this world has to offer...and instead of becoming psychotic, you chose to try and rescue the very same world that has beaten you down. You're an admirable person. Any man would count himself lucky to have you on his side."

Tim stared at the bowl of cereal, which was a lot less appealing that it had been...not that he'd ever _really_ wanted it.

"You _are_ a good person. I can see it in your face that you don't think so. You've probably done some things you wish you could chop off your fingers rather than do...but you're a good person. Remember that, Tim. ...and remember one more thing."

"I will."

"I know you will. You said you don't forget. Remember that I'm not trying to force you into _anything_ but into making a decision. Whatever that decision is? It should be your own, not mine...just make one; otherwise, life will make the decision for you...and usually that's the least pleasant option."

Tim nodded at the bowl and listened to Tobias leave. Carefully, with shaking hands, he began to obediently feed himself. He took his time even if a part of his mind was begging him to shove it all in right away and who cared about the negative consequences. He wasn't sure he could deal with the gauntlet he had been thrown. He had to make a decision. That much was true...but what was the _right_ decision? And how did he live with the consequences? The idea was tying his stomach in knots and he was ready to freak out completely but he was trying not to...but trying to let himself feel it as well. He didn't know how people did it. How did they feel the emotions without letting the pain overwhelm them?

He finished about half the bowl and couldn't stand to eat any more of it. Instead, he picked up the bowl and began to move it to the sink...but he stopped and in a surge of too many emotions he hurled it against the wall and felt an intense satisfaction (and a little bit of shame) when it shattered into pieces and the leftover cereal splattered all over the wall.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

After a few minutes of satisfaction, the shame took over and Tim couldn't believe he'd done that. Normal people didn't have to throw dishes in order to express emotion. Normal people didn't freak out at every little thing. What was _wrong _with him?

There was a sound of movement at the door behind him.

"Feel any better?" Gibbs asked.

Tim closed his eyes and kept facing the wall. Gibbs. One of them, one of the people who had sacrificed everything to rescue him. He couldn't face that, couldn't address that...but he didn't know how to hide from it either. Then, his stomach, which hadn't been feeling the best anyway, rebelled against Tim's increasing tension and confusion and he threw himself forward just in time to vomit into the sink. He sagged against the counter, on his way to the floor, when he felt Gibbs supporting him, an arm around his waist. He began to cry again, not knowing what else to do.

"It's all right, McGee."

Tim reach around and grabbed the taps on the sink, holding them tightly in his hands. Gibbs turned one of them and the water washed the vomit down the drain. Tim didn't see that but he noticed the better air.

"I don't...know...what to do," Tim whimpered. "I don't know what to do."

"What you need to do right now is breathe, McGee."

"How...How can you stand it?"

"Stand what?"

"Feeling all this...I can't..."

"Just breathe. Don't think about anything else. Breathe."

Tim tried to obey but his body insisted on being panicked.

"Not like that, Tim. Deep breath in. Slow and steady. Breathe in."

Tim inhaled.

"Good. Now, breathe out...no! Slowly."

Tim's exhale was a little more shaky than his inhale.

"Good. Just keep breathing."

Tim was surprised to find that he started to feel a little better as he breathed.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I need to clean up the mess I made," Tim said.

"You talking about more than the wall?"

Tim didn't bother to answer. Instead, he began to pick up the pieces of shattered stoneware and toss them into the recycler. He noticed that Gibbs started to help him.

"I should do it. I made the mess."

"Yeah, you should. Nothing says I can't help."

Tim hid his face and focused on the mess. He really wanted to stop feeling all this but he again remembered his promise. It was so hard.

With the two of them, it didn't take long to get the dish pieces picked up. Gibbs then allowed Tim to clean up the splattered cereal. Tim did so and felt tired again. Sleep was another way of avoiding reality. He knew that, but he also knew that he was tired. Still, he had a feeling that Gibbs was looking at him, wanting to know what was going on. He deserved to know if he wanted to. So, instead of trying to slink off to his bed...again, he sank down onto the chair at the table.

"I don't know what to do," he said again, looking down.

"About what?" Gibbs asked.

Tim decided that the three of them (Gibbs, Ducky and Tobias) were all very nice people but they all had very different ways of talking. Gibbs was a lot more matter-of-fact, but a lot less intense than Tobias. Ducky was a lot more understanding but had a stubbornness that rivaled either of the others. He wasn't used to thinking about people as...well, as people. He was used to thinking of them as obstacles, possibly as enemies. Not friends, not people worth knowing. The more he knew about people, the worse they usually were...in his very limited experience. ...but these last few days were putting lie to what he thought he knew.

"About me."

"What do you mean?"

"People are giving everything up for me...even their lives." He looked up. "What have I done to deserve that? What do I do with that kind of–?"

"Gift?"

"Responsibility."

"What do you _think_ you should do?"

"I want to give it back to them and say, 'no thanks'."

He could have sworn that Gibbs almost smiled. "I didn't ask what you _wanted_ to do. I asked what you thought you _should_ do."

"I don't know. Up to now it's been...not simple but...I was just trying to get people to think about things."

"Didn't you think that they might _do_ something about it?"

Tim shook his head.

"Then, why bother saying it?"

"It needed to be said...and I couldn't bear it if it weren't."

"So you didn't mean any of it? Were you lying when you said you could see potential in people?"

"No."

"You see the potential but you see no possibility of people doing anything with it?"

Tim felt as though the words were all stuck in his head. If he could write them down, they would be eloquent and clear, but as it was... "I don't know. After a while...I just...I stopped thinking about reality. I didn't want to think about reality. I was thinking about people who might read what I wrote and see that I was right."

"And then?"

Shame flooded through him as he thought about how stupid he'd been, how blind...how childish. "I'm as bad as..."

"As what?"

"I wasn't..." Tim stared at the table. "I'm a horrible person."

Gibbs laughed. "And why do you think that?"

"Because..._look_ at me!" Tim spread out his arms, his weak shaking arms. "I've lived my whole life assuming that no one cared, assuming that people like you only wanted to ruin what little I had...but look at who has been helping me...and look at how I've treated you. Look at how I've treated _Ducky_! He has never once abandoned me and...and I'm not...I don't..." Tim made a sound of frustration. "I don't have the _words_. I can write thousands of words and yet when it comes to...sitting here...just...talking. I can't. I don't understand what I have to do! ...and I don't know what to do now! I can't walk away because the librar–Tobias is right."

"About what?"

Tim clenched his hand into a fist and punched the air a few times before hitting himself in the head. Then, he slammed his hand onto the table, making it rattle.

"People are already _dying_ for me!" Tim burst out, trying not to shout. "Jimmy's parents died for me, for what I believe in, and I'm tired of people dying for me. I don't want that...but he's right. It's already happening. The people I don't believe in...they believe in me! What kind of a person am I?"

Gibbs said nothing, staring at him with an evaluative expression.

"I'm so selfish! I want freedom for everyone because it would mean freedom for me...but I don't have the hope that anyone could possibly feel the same way. I approached it as...as another assignment. Instead of programming a computer, I'm telling people what to believe...and it's apparently working. ...and people who don't believe what I'm doing are still sticking their necks out for me. Thom is the one with the high ideals. Tim is just slogging his way through life...waiting to die." Tim sagged back. "I don't know what Ducky sees when he looks at me, but it can't be the same thing I see when I look at myself because _I_ want to shudder and look away...but he keeps looking back. I don't deserve any of this."

"Then, why don't you _try _to deserve it?"

"What?"

"You say that you don't deserve to be saved, don't deserve to have the faith of your readers. Why don't you try to live so that you do?"

"Do _you _think I deserve it?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're one of the people who gave up everything...your boat." He smiled. "Your job, your home. You've given it all up...and I have no idea why."

"I did it because it was the right thing to do, because Ducky asked for my help. That's why."

"But did you think I deserved it? Did you save me because you thought that I was worth saving? Or was it just as a favor to Ducky?"

"You can't base your value on the judgment of someone else, Tim."

"Why not?"

"Because you have to see some value in yourself."

"There is none."

"There seem to be a few who would disagree."

"And I don't see why. What am I to them? What am I to _you_? I'm a guy who got screwed up by the system, who can't even seem to tolerate feeling the simplest emotions without having a meltdown...who doesn't even _want_ the emotions he's forced to feel, who never told his only surviving family that he loved her, who has taken everyone and everything around him to be nothing important...because he himself isn't important."

"If we're not important, then why are you risking so much to save _us_? We saved you; why are you trying to save us?"

Tim was quiet, tracing shapes on the table in front of him.

"Why are you bothering if you don't think anyone matters?"

Tim didn't want to answer...because he knew that he'd lied.

"McGee!"

Tim jumped.

"Why? ...and tell the truth this time!"

Tim looked up at that. Gibbs knew he'd lied. That meant he _had_ to be honest...but he didn't want to be. He didn't want to confess what he really thought.

"Everyone is important," Tim admitted. "Humanity is worth saving. People are worth saving. They matter."

"Why lie about it?"

"Because I..."

"Why?"

"Admitting that they matter means that I have to admit that I'm wrong."

"About what?"

"About them...and do I care about them because they're people...or do I care because they're human and it makes logical sense to want to save a species? Why am I doing it? Why do I think they matter? ...but it's not even _thinking_ they matter. I'm way beyond that. I know...I don't know why I do, but I do. It's knowing and knowing that I have to try and save them...no matter what it takes."

"But _you _don't matter?"

"You have to be human first. I don't qualify."

"You are, Tim. Like it or not, you are of the exact same species as I am."

"Genetics aside..."

"Genetics aside? I still don't see that we're all that different. You're a heck of a lot smarter than I am and you had a pretty crappy life. Beyond that?"

"I don't feel like I'm the same as you...or any of you. Look at Erin. Look at what she's become. I'm just a few steps above that."

"A few important steps. She's dying. You're not...but you kind of regret that, huh."

"Not...not so much as...I don't know."

"Tim, I can't tell you what to think. No one can...but I think you're beating yourself up without cause. Sure, you might be a little selfish. Who isn't? So you have some issues. Welcome to the club. I'll tell you this much: we wouldn't have done all we did if we didn't think it was worth it. The question is...do you feel the same way? And what are _you _willing to give up for what _you_ think is important?"

Tim watched him walk out and then dropped his head onto his hands which were resting on the table.

For the rest of the day, Tim hid from everyone, in the corners of the library with the rare books. He was thinking, thinking in ways he hadn't _ever_ thought. It was hard. It was painful. He didn't want to do it, but he knew he had to. On his lap rested his latest book. He read some of it, not that he needed to. He remembered what he had written. A few people found him back there, but they realized he didn't want company and left him alone.

He would talk to them when he was ready.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky awakened feeling much better. He had been up a few hours before but decided to sleep until sunset in order to get back on the correct sleeping schedule. Now, he was no longer tired, and he had needed the extra sleep. Now, he would have to see what the fallout of his intervention with Tim was. It was a hard task, but he knew that it had begun and he had to see it through, much like Tim did. He heard a soft sigh and he rolled over.

"Timothy?"

There he was, sitting on a chair, hands clasped tightly in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed.

Ducky sat up.

"Timothy?"

Tim's voice was soft, hesitant...almost...almost young. "Did Mom and Dad regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Sending me to school."

Ducky reached out and touched Tim's hands. Tim pulled away.

"Yes, Timothy. They blamed themselves for not seeing, for not making the obvious connections. They were desperate to get you out, no matter the cost. They begged me to use my influence to find out what was being done to you there. I'm ashamed to say that after Sub Salt flooded, I forgot about it...and I never dreamed that it would continue with your transfer to MIT. Perhaps if I had..."

"It's not your fault."

Ducky smiled at the bowed head. "Perhaps not, but I still regret it. If they had lived, they would have got you out. I don't know how, but they would have done it. Parents are like that...and they loved you so much, Timothy. It tore them apart to see their sweet little boy so broken down."

He saw a tear drop from Tim's face onto his hands.

"I'm not going to try for the surface."

"You're not?"

Tim lifted his head and Ducky saw tears on his face, chaos in his eyes. ...but the emotions were there. Tim hadn't hidden from them...yet. He was frightened and looked as though he was only barely hanging on, but he was trying as he had promised. It was both a relief and something that made Ducky a little anxious himself. Tim clearly didn't want to do what he had decided he _had _to do.

"No. Not yet. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I've started a revolution, Ducky...and I have to finish it. I can't leave and leave everyone to clean up my mess."

"What do you mean?"

"My writings. Tobias was right. I'm asking people to fight against our government. I can't do that and then run away, not when they're listening to me."

"What are you going to do?"

"Something I've never done before."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to ask people to act. I'm going to ask them to...fight for me...fight _with _me."

Ducky stared at Tim in surprise and couldn't find words for his own thoughts.

Tim gave a terrified smile.

"I'm going to ask them to start a war."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Tim left after speaking to Ducky, didn't let him ask any questions for the moment. He couldn't tolerate it. Instead, he headed for the Sound Room, wanting to listen to some of the music that he loved so much...but he found he wasn't the only one who had that idea.

"_Perigee plus 00085... 00764... 030... 0002 niner 3..."_

Tim peered in and saw Tony sitting in front of one of the displays.

"_Hello, Houston. Eagle standing by...over."_

He began watching. He'd seen the video a lot.

"_The Eagle has landed."_

It still filled him with the same wonder that he'd felt the first time he'd watched it.

"_I'm at the foot of the ladder."_

Tim smiled as he watched.

"_That's one small step for man...one giant leap for manki..."_

"Hey! It's garbled!" Tony exclaimed.

"It was a long time ago, Tony. What do you expect?" Tim asked.

Tony looked back, startled. He smiled self-consciously. "You said I should see it."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What do you think?"

"I think...I don't know. You can't really see very much there."

Tim nodded and then walked over. "Here. Let me show you something, Tony. We live on the planet Earth, right?"

"Right."

"You ever wonder what that planet looks like?"

"Not really."

"Well, look at it." Tim leaned over and typed a few commands. "Here's a view of the Earth from space. You can see the moon in the background."

Tony stared at it and said nothing.

"Here's a view of the entire planet...from space. That's the African continent."

"What's all that white stuff?"

"Clouds."

"Huh."

Tim heard no sound of Tony being impressed.

"This is a photo of the world at night." Tim brought up another image. "We're here." He pointed to the East Coast of what had been the United States of America.

Tony sighed. "This all means something to you, doesn't it. It just doesn't to me. It's just pictures."

Tim sank down onto a chair. "That means nothing to you? The place we live? It doesn't mean anything?"

"No. It really doesn't, McGee. I'm sorry, but it doesn't." He spread his arms out. "_This_ is my world. _This_ is where I live. Those pictures are what convinced you that we needed to leave?"

Tim shook his head. "No."

"Then, what did?"

"Scary statistics. It's stuff like this that made me _want_ to leave. ...but that wasn't the first thing I found."

"Then, what was? Show me, McGee. Show me what makes you want to leave all we have down here."

Tim hesitated.

"Come on, McGee. You said seeing stuff like this is what made you want to leave. I'm not getting it so far."

"I can't show you exactly what I saw."

"Why not?"

"Because...I can't. Don't ask me to explain right now."

Tony looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Okay..."

Tim sat up and typed in a series of codes. Then, a box came up requesting a double password. Tim typed both in, hesitated again and pressed 'return'. Immediately, a video came up. Nothing was happening. It was just a view of a forest.

"That's a lot of wood," Tony said, leaning forward. "Where is this from?"

"Here. Let me show you another view," Tim said, sidestepping the question. He shifted it to one of his favorite shots...the beach. This time, he got a definite reaction.

"Wow! Where is this? _What_ is this?"

"A beach, on the ocean."

"That's the _ocean_?" Tony asked in amazement. "That...that water is the ocean?"

"Yeah. From above."

It was a spectacular view, and Tim was glad that it had delivered. Thick dense forest grew up to the sparkling white sand. The waves crashed onto the shore.

"Wow. That's...that's really different. That's what the ocean looks like? On the surface?"

"Yeah."

"There's so much...open space."

Tim laughed. "Yeah. There is."

"This is what you saw first?"

"Well, I saw the forest first," Tim confessed. _And it was night; so I didn't even see that._

"Man, too bad the world got destroyed. That is beautiful, McGee."

Tim reached out and pressed a few keys. The video disappeared.

"I can see why that convinced you."

"No, I told you. I was already convinced. That just made me _want_ it."

"So, what convinced you?"

That wasn't Tony asking. Tim turned around. Gibbs and Abby were both there. Gibbs looked skeptical, but Tim could see that Abby didn't need convincing. She was more about the people than the facts. What she'd seen had convinced her. ...but he could see that Gibbs and Tony both weren't convinced that way, not because they didn't care about people but because they didn't let that caring interfere with the way they looked at things. It was strange to apply his mind to analyzing people rather than problems, rather than computer issues.

"McGee?" A hand shook him gently and Tim blinked, realizing that he had mentally shifted gears away from interactions to analysis.

He flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Explain what it was that convinced you that we need to go," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, tell us why you want to leave the cities. We're safe down here. There are hundreds of cities all over the world."

"Yes, and they're emptying out fast!" Tim interrupted loudly.

Tony's eyes widened at the force of Tim's outburst. "What do you mean?"

"People are dying sooner. People are killing themselves more. The government is taking more and more people away...and fewer people are having fewer children. We're dying out! The human race is dying!"

"Explain," Gibbs said again. "You mentioned this in your books but you didn't give any facts."

Tim hesitated. "I got it from...places I shouldn't have been able to get it from."

"We're not going to arrest you, McGee," Tony said with a laugh. "Even if they haven't figured out that we helped yet...I don't think it will take too much longer."

Tim felt another pang at the reminder of what had been done for him. He hated it. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

"Okay. The first thing that got me wondering...about the surface and about...other things was a video I found when I was still at MIT."

"How did you find it?" Abby asked.

"On accident. I don't remember what I was supposed to be doing. I don't know where I found the curiosity to look...but I did."

"Look at what?"

"This." Tim reached around Tony and typed in a request. Instantly, a video came up.

"This is the last transmission from the surface. No one is allowed to see it."

"Except you?" Tony asked, smiling slightly.

"Well...I wasn't supposed to see it either. Hasn't stopped me before."

He hit the play button. A man, obviously injured, probably dying was on the screen. His face was covered in lesions.

"_This is Darrin. I'm broadcasting from..."_ Sparks showered over him, interrupting his transmission. He ducked. _"...from what's left of Washington, D.C. I estimate that 95 percent of the world population has been wiped out. The ozone is shot. It'll take at least five years to restore it...and that's _after_ the radiation stops falling. The bombs have finally stopped, although I don't know if that's because people are waking up, if it's because they ran out...or if it's just that the people controlling them are dead themselves. The radiation cloud has grown to cover almost all of Europe and has begun to circulate around the earth. Everywhere it passes, we get radioactive rainfall."_

"When is this?" Abby whispered.

"I don't know exactly," Tim answered. "At least 1200 years ago. Beyond that, I don't have any idea."

"_I was stuck in one of the rains...and my condition is terminal. I've reprogrammed the clean-up to run with or without human intervention. Hopefully, this isn't the end. Once the next fall is over, I'm going to see if I can track down any survivors. If I'm successful, I'll attempt to make contact again. Maybe we can find room for them in Carlsbad or perhaps beneath Rome. If not, this will more than likely be my last transmission. The satellites are broadcasting."_

An image came over the display, hiding the speaker. It showed image after image of destroyed lands, cities...smoking hulks of buildings...and almost constant cloud cover.

"_If anyone can survive what's left...what's coming...I don't know if it's possible. There's so little left up here. But as bad as it is...it's going to get much worse. I don't know if we can survive the coming nuclear winter. With the amount of damage, the amount of radiation, I'm estimating it will last at least ten years, if not more. Ten years of nothing growing, very little sunlight and continual freezing temperatures."_ The man laughed wearily. _"How many times did we say that we could so easily destroy ourselves? Look what we have done. Sometimes, I wonder if mankind shouldn't just be allowed to die and save the universe a lot of trouble. ...but maybe we can finally learn our lesson. Maybe."_ He looked away from the screen. _"Looks like the fall is letting up. I only have a few days at most, but Lucas is still active in Edinburgh. He may be able to transmit again. I've set the clean-up to begin in twenty years. Plenty of time for the rest of us to die."_ The man laughed once more and they saw tears in his eyes. _"Do you know what the worst thing is? I bet a hundred bucks that the Packers would win the Super Bowl this year. I guess I'll never get a chance to see it. They were good."_ He looked away. _"Darrin out."_

There was a long silence.

"He died?" Abby asked finally.

"Must have. This was the very last transmission from the surface."

"Why wouldn't we be allowed to see that? It's horrible," Tony said. "I mean, look at all the destruction that had happened. Look at that guy!"

"No, I understand," Gibbs said. "Automatic cleanup?"

Tim nodded. "Yes. They had programs in place to begin fixing the mess, cleaning up the soil, purifying the air, rebuilding the ozone layer. All very important things, all vital to an eventual return to the surface. They made lots of plans...every possible necessity."

"This is what convinced you?"

"No, this is what made me start asking the questions. I wanted to show you _why_ I started thinking about it...because I don't think you understand."

"What don't we understand?" Tony asked.

"Why this is so important. Why it's necessary. Why it's the only way!" Tim felt his stomach start to clench again and it hurt. Trying to stop the assault, he took a deep breath and pushed Tony away from the computer.

"Hey!"

"You need to see. I...I get that...but you won't like it."

Abby leaned forward and touched Tim's hand. He flinched a little.

"Tell us, Tim. Tell us what you found."

Deep breath. "Okay. Here it is." He began typing and bringing up charts, graphs, lots and lots of numbers. "The world population before the Descent was nearly 8 billion."

"Eight billion _people_?" Tony asked. "Man...were they elbow to elbow?"

Tim laughed. "No. There's a lot more room when you don't have to burrow through rock."

"Where did they all go?" Abby asked.

Tim looked at her, wondering how she could miss what was so obvious...and he saw the moment she realized.

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe one percent of the world's population was saved...but I think even that is an over-estimate."

"One percent? Everyone else died?"

"Yeah. There just wasn't room for more when they first started. That's why I think it was even less than a percent."

"Okay...so we started out with a smaller population. Then, what?"

"Then, as we settled in down here, they began to expand. It took probably a century or two to begin that process, but eventually, we began to...go forth and multiply." Tim managed a weak smile. "We adjusted to where we were living and it was okay. Not great. Life expectancies have never reached the levels I found from before the Descent, but they were okay. Infant mortality rates were low and the population was increasing. That began to change about a hundred years ago."

A graph appeared. The decrease was subtle at first, but they could all see it.

"It's...only up to about ten years ago, but there's no sign that the trends are changing. The population peaked at 250 million and since then, it's been declining. People aren't having children or they're having fewer. They don't want to bring kids into this world...even if it's not a conscious choice. They find reasons to delay...indefinitely. Our population is at 100 million. A hundred years ago, it was 150 million. The numbers are falling. Drastically."

"You said suicides are increasing?"

"Yes." Tim put in another request. Two charts came up on the display. "This top graph is the number of reported suicide attempts in the past hundred years. Fully one quarter of the adult population has _attempted_ suicide at least once."

"One out of four?"

"Yeah. And that's only the ones that are reported. Not all are. This second graph is the number of successful suicides. These numbers can't be verified."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

Tim swallowed. "Because there's no way of telling which suicides were genuine and which were murders...ordered by the government and made to _look_ like suicide." He sensed protest. "Don't try to deny that it happens. Tobias is an example of it...even if I didn't know about him before. There are others. The plain fact of the matter is that genuine or not, the suicide numbers are increasing and more and more people are feeling that the only way to escape is by dying...because there's nowhere else for them to go. Fifty percent of the population has been estimated to suffer from some form of depression or anxiety disorder."

"Anything else?"

"Yes."

Abby shuddered. "There's more?"

"Yes." Tim's hands flew over the keyboard. "This chart shows the decline of life expectancies. Now, this is harder to gauge because it's different in different cities, different countries, just like it's always been. Global life expectancies were up to about 70 years before the Descent."

"That doesn't sound so good," Tony said. "Lots of people live longer than that. _Ducky_ is older than that."

"Actually, it's very good when you consider that this takes into account infant mortality, childhood sickness, war, disease, poor living conditions in some areas. The population was a _lot_ larger than it is now. Remember that there were some places where the life expectancy was only 50 years...and some where it was over 80 years."

"What's ours?"

"We're at 64 years. A hundred years ago we were at 66. The world life expectancy peaked at 67 about 500 years ago."

"Isn't _anything_ better?" Abby asked, her voice small.

"Yes. Infant mortality rates are much lower down here. It's just that..."

"There are fewer babies being born."

"Yeah. Last year was the first time that the number of deaths outnumbered the number of births...by two to one. The opposite was the case a few years before the Descent."

"This led you to the surface?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Tim looked at Gibbs. "What do you mean, how?"

"Why look at the surface as the solution? Why not a change in government, a shift in priorities down here?"

"Because we were never supposed to be _staying_ down here. We can all sense it...even if we don't know why. We know that there's something off about where we live! You saw that video! You saw that there was a plan in place to repair the damage! They didn't want this to be the permanent solution! ...and it's not! It's not working!"

"So?"

"So?" Tim rose to his feet. "So?"

"Yeah. Looks like there's a lot of risks to living up there," Tony said. "Nuclear war? The whole world being destroyed? Why risk that again?"

Tim felt the anger again, anger at being proven right in his worst estimations of the human race. He felt his whole body brace for the coming explosion...and he didn't bother to suppress it. They had never seen him really angry before. Hurt, yes. Anguished, yes. Irritated, even. Angry? No...because he generally controlled it. He knew how to do that. He didn't this time. He didn't even bother trying.

"How can you all be so...so..._stupid_?" Tim shouted. "Do you honestly think that this is helping us in _any_ way? Look at what the government has done to _Erin_! Look at what they've done to me! Do you know how many years it took for me to understand that not every moment of physical contact meant punishment? Do you know why I had to relearn that? Because the _government_-sponsored education I had relied on punishment to get results! Do you honestly think that the human race is any better down here than it was up there? No, we don't have nuclear weapons! No, we don't have pollution! What we have is worse! We have rampant corruption and cruelty in all levels of the government!" Tim felt a twinge in his stomach, but he pressed on. "We are facing the extinction of the entire human race! I'm not talking about civilizations! Civilizations rise and fall; that's the nature of this world...but the human race...its very existence hangs in the balance! Up there, we faced possible extinction due to nuclear war. That war was started by human beings! That war was also ended by human beings. These places we live in were built by human beings! With all that you've discovered...how can you sit there and spout the party line to me as if I'm dumb enough to accept that? Do you honestly think that human beings are smarter, kinder, gentler...more _noble_ down here than they were on the surface?"

Tim stopped and breathed, staring at them. They weren't moving. In the wake of the primary explosion, silence reigned. Tim took a breath and continued. He wasn't finished yet.

"You're all being sheep! Herded around to various places without thought! You're letting what _they_ tell you become the be-all and end-all of your existence! You're too smart to let that happen! Why don't you think for yourselves? Do you think that it's because of what happened to me that I think all this? Do you think it's because I'm smart or crazy? It's not! It's because I have taken the chance of thinking things _other_ than what I'm told! Ironically, they taught me to think outside the box. To analyze. They just thought that they'd have control of me until I died! They were wrong and I've been _thinking_ for myself! Why can't you do that? Why can't you take the time to _think_? This is so ridiculous! I thought...I was actually starting to believe that I could be wrong about what people do...but I'm seeing it here. I'm seeing it in _you_...and I was ready to believe that you were different...or maybe that the majority of the human race was really better than I believed they were!" He let out a wild laugh. "Looks like I'm wrong! What's worse is that it looks like I'll be fighting for people who don't even care that I'm trying to save them. The few who can think will die for those who can't."

Suddenly, Tim felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and bent over, breathing heavily.

"Tim, are you all right?"

Still infuriated, Tim pushed Abby's concerned hand away.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little stomach-ache...courtesy of your friend Kort." He looked at them all again. "I wish I didn't feel like I had to do this!" Then, he strode from the room, ignoring the feeble protests behind him. They were all the same...and yet, he wasn't going to change his plan. He couldn't give up on them. He hated that he couldn't, but it wasn't possible. He didn't have it in him to abandon them. His angry strides propelled him to Tobias who was just coming out of Erin's room.

"Tim? What's wrong?"

Tim shook his head, dismissing the concern as unimportant.

"Tell me what you want from me."

"I don't understand."

"I'm going to help you in your cause. Tell me what you want. You want me to talk? I'll do that. You want me to fight? Fine. Whatever. I don't care. If I'm going to have a revolution on my head for the rest of my life, I'm going to be a part of it. I'm not going to stand back and watch it happen, watch people die."

Tobias didn't seem happy with this news. He seemed worried.

"Tim, I wasn't trying to force you into–"

"You're not forcing me into anything," Tim said angrily. "I know what I'm doing. I know what I'm signing up for. _Tell_ me what you want me to do!"

"Timothy, what's going on?"

Tim whirled around. "Nothing, Ducky," he snarled and turned back. "Well?"

Tobias drew in his breath to answer but Tim felt another stabbing pain and doubled over. Ducky was beside him in a second.

"Timothy, you are _not_ all right."

"I'm fine, Ducky."

"No. You're not. You've been overdoing it and your body is telling you so."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does," Tobias said. "I'm happy to have your help, Tim...but not like this. I'm going to be holding a planning session tomorrow. That's the soonest the ringleaders can sneak in here. You come for that. We're not doing anything until then. So...you rest. Recover."

The pain ebbed and Tim straightened, nodding reluctantly, the anger draining out of him, leaving him feeling enervated. He allowed Ducky to lead him back to his room.

"Timothy, what brought this...this anger?"

Tim collapsed onto the bed and curled into a fetal position.

"I haven't seen you this upset in...in years."

"I tried to believe, Ducky...but it's no good. People...they only disappoint you. It's better not to know them at all."

"That is wrong, Timothy."

"No...no, it's right. People don't want to be saved. I'm going to die for people who don't care, who are fine with their extinction. I seem to be the only one who doesn't want that."

"An over-simplification...as you are aware."

"People who have seen everything...they _still_ believe what they're told. Why can't they just think?"

Tim felt Ducky's hand on his forehead.

"You certainly worked yourself up into a frenzy, Timothy. People make mistakes. People fail to see the world logically...because the world _isn't_ logical."

"It's all pointless. We're going to lose."

"Then, why bother fighting?"

"Because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

"A hopeless fight is not the way to approach the coming battle. You must have hope."

"I've never had hope, Ducky. Every time I've tried it's been squashed...pulverized...destroyed. What's the use?"

"Hope makes life worth living...even in the darkest moments. ...and life _is_ worth living, Timothy. People are worth saving. Life is worth living. It is better to hope than to live in such darkness. There is an old, old Scottish proverb: 'Were it not for hope, the heart would break.'"

The hand disappeared and Tim closed his eyes as Ducky turned out the light.

Tim pulled the blanket over his head.

"Then, my heart is broken."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

"He's right, Gibbs," Abby said in the wake of Tim's abrupt departure.

"What?" Tony asked. "He's _right_? You enjoyed being called a sheep, did you?"

"No, I didn't...but honestly, isn't that what we've been? We accept things because we decide that there's nothing we can do and just follow along. Now, we've been told everything that's wrong...we've been told that there's a solution...and our answer is...what?"

"What are you saying, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm saying that I'm going to help Tim...do whatever it is he's doing because he's right. ...and there's no way I can work for someone as corrupt as the NIU is. That's final. I'm officially stepping over the line and making a decision. Tim has decided to fight for us. I've decided I'm going to fight for Tim." She stood up. "What about you?"

The silence was prolonged and Abby shook her head. "Well, then, I'm going to go and find Ziva."

"Ziva! Why her?" Tony asked.

"Because she decided long before I did what she was going to do...and I think she might be lonely." Nodding firmly to herself, Abby turned and walked out of the room.

"Boss?"

"What, Tony?"

"What are you going to do?"

Then, Tony's band beeped at him.

"Oh...that's a little surreal."

"What?"

Tony looked up. "My request for a DNA analysis on that body in the crawler dens has come through." He smiled awkwardly. "I guess I'll look at it. It might be my last act as an NIU agent."

Gibbs said nothing as Tony turned around and logged in to his NIU account. He skimmed through the results and sat back, looking disgusted.

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

"The guy was the maintenance manager for that tunnel. His family reported him missing last week." Tony laughed incredulously. "They killed him. Whoever was working with Kort killed him, probably when he saw them with Sarah McGee. Abby's right. The more I see of the NIU, the less I want to. This isn't what I signed on for. This isn't right, Boss. This is..." He sighed and steeled himself. "It's enough to make me agree with Abby. I don't care so much about getting to the surface, but these people we work for..._worked_ for...they should _not_ be in charge. They need to be taken down." He logged out of the NIU space and nodded at the blank screen. "I guess that means I have to help do it. I'm going to...join in the revolution. Yeehaw." He stood and walked to the door. "You coming?"

"Go on. I'll catch up."

Tony smiled. "Well, looks like we have an old guy and a crazy guy in charge. You probably won't have too much trouble catching up to them."

Gibbs watched him go. Then, he turned around and brought back up the charts Tim hadn't bothered to close down. It amazed him that Tim was convinced by numbers. Abby was convinced by people, Tony by a combination of facts and emotion...but for Tim, apparently, it was all about the numbers. So...what was it for Gibbs? He wasn't sure. He didn't know why he was still undecided...because he was. What was holding him back? He thought about it as he looked at the horribly-depressing statistics. Tim had been so clear when he presented them. He could recite every single one, probably from memory. ...and then Gibbs stopped.

Tim was why he was hesitating. It was Tim's obvious instability...not that he was crazy because he wasn't. Not that he was liable to hurt someone else, because he wouldn't. It was because Tim was someone who fought, not because he thought he could win but because he saw no other option. He had said it himself, he _knew_ that mankind was worth saving. He knew it, but he had no faith in mankind to do anything with that salvation. That meant he was essentially willing to throw his life away for nothing. Gibbs just wasn't sure he wanted to follow someone who thought that way.

_But if not...then, what am I going to do with my life? I can't go back. Like Abby, I don't want to go back. That leaves only one road...but I have to make the choice. I can't do it because it's all I can do. It has to be because I want it. How much change am I ready for?_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The glass fell to the floor, shattering into pieces, and Paula cursed under her breath. It was bad enough that she had such fuzzy memories of the past few days, bad enough that the doctor who was sheltering her still wasn't sure about whether or not her arm would heal...but did she have to break the glass, too?

She knelt down to try and clean it up.

"Paula, you should still be in bed."

"I dropped the glass, Dr. Hampton."

"I've told you that you can call me Jordan. We're hardly in a hospital."

"Force of habit," Paula said and allowed herself to be moved back onto the bed.

"Breaking habits is not always a bad thing."

Paula smiled. "Any good news?"

"Some. I had a friend make a search. They found and were able to bury Cassie Yates. Her family has been informed. Quietly. They were grateful to have the closure."

"That's about the only thing I can remember clearly," Paula said, feeling the tears she hated to show, even to her benefactor. "Cassie falling...dying. It's funny...I never liked Agent Kort, but I didn't...I never even _considered_ the possibility that he was...one of the bad guys." She tried to laugh. "Why can't I remember everything that happened?"

Jordan sat down beside her on the bed. "Paula, you were hit with the backlash of an EM bullet fired on the highest setting. You're lucky you didn't die. An EM pulse can reek total havoc on a human being. That it scrambled your memory of that time is the least of your worries."

"My arm?"

"Healing...but it's going to take a very long time; so I suggest that you get comfortable here...unless you have somewhere else you'd like to go."

"Why _are_ you helping me? You could get in a lot of trouble."

Jordan smiled. "Ducky and I go back a few years. I owe him big time. I've done a few things I need to repay. Besides, I'm no friend of the NIU, shocking as that may be to you. You're evidence that I made the right decision a few years ago."

"I..." Paula looked at her nervously.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to try and convert you to anything. I'm not going to suddenly sprout horns. I'm a doctor, first and foremost. I don't like seeing people suffer. I've seen too much of that in my former line of work. I'm not interested in seeing more than I have to. I would help you if you were my worst enemy. It's part of the oath I took when I became a doctor. So...don't you worry about thing, Paula. You're in good hands...and you're safe...no matter what or who you're running from." Jordan smiled. "Just rest."

Paula lay back on the bed as Jordan cleared up the broken glass.

"Thank you, Dr. Hampton."

"You're welcome, Paula. I will say this...you might want to rethink your allegiances a little."

Paula stared and Jordan just waved a hand as she left the room.

"Rethink my allegiances," Paula repeated softly to herself. "If only I could remember what I saw."

Deep inside her, a small voice asked, _Does it really matter?_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy finally felt well enough to come out of the room Ducky had rigged up for him in the evening. He had given in and taken the medication which made him feel queasy for a couple of hours. It was a very different library when he came out. He was aware of the feeling in the air. A lot of things had happened.

"Feeling better?"

Jimmy turned around. He recognized the voice.

"Yes...thank you. Tony, right?"

Tony smiled and nodded.

"How did you know?"

"I've seen it before."

"Who?"

"My mom."

"What happened?"

"They took her."

Jimmy nodded. "That's one of the reasons my parents kept me out of school. It's also why they were so determined to get to the surface."

Tony looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Up there, I wouldn't ever feel closed in...because I wouldn't be." He smiled a little. "And there wouldn't be any possibility of me getting punished for having a problem."

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"What's going on?"

"We're getting ready to go to war."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Looks that way."

"Wow." Jimmy wasn't sure what else to say. "Um...have you seen Uncle Don?"

"Who? Oh...Ducky. Not...not recently."

"Is he going to fight?"

"Ducky? He's a bit old for it, don't you think?"

Jimmy flushed. "Yeah...I guess."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. What are you going to do? That seems to be the question for everyone in this building."

"I don't know."

"You should probably figure it out...pretty fast. McGee might go on the warpath again." Tony slapped Jimmy's back with an encouraging smile and headed off.

"Again?" Jimmy looked around, thinking that he had missed a lot of important things. He went on a search for Ducky and found him in the cafeteria.

"Jimmy, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. What...are you going to do, Uncle Don?"

Ducky pulled out a chair for him. "About what?"

"Tony just told me that there's a revolution going on."

"Well, technically, it hasn't begun yet, but we're on our way."

"What are you going to do?"

Ducky sighed. "The only thing I _can_ do, lad."

"What's that?"

"Doctor the wounded which will surely result from this course of action."

"Do you think they're right?"

Another sigh. "Right. Wrong. These things are so difficult to gauge. That everyone here is trying to do the right thing is beyond question...that what they are planning will have the result they want? I have no idea."

"But you're still going to help?"

"Yes...because what they are attempting is better than the status quo."

Jimmy stared at the table for a long moment. There were a lot of small nicks and gouges in it from years and years of use. Then, he looked up.

"Do you need an assistant?"

Ducky smiled and his tiredness seemed to disappear.

"Jimmy, I would be honored."

Jimmy grinned. "Well, then...Dr. Mallard, what's your first order of business?"

"We should set up a room to receive casualties...Mr. Palmer. I know the very place."

The two men stood and walked out of the room together. They spent long hours converting one of the back rooms into an ER.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Erin lay quietly on her bed. Tim sat beside her, staring at her still form. The meeting would be starting soon, but he felt drawn to Erin.

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asked her. "I just don't know. I look at you...and myself...and I wonder why I bother. I feel like Darrin, the guy who had to watch the end of the world. Maybe we should do the universe a favor and let our species die out. We do such horrible things to each other...what will we do to someone else?"

Erin didn't answer. She didn't even stir.

Tim sighed. "And yet..." He began to cry softly. "And yet...if I could have...if I could have saved my family...from the water...I would have, even if they, if they didn't understand, even if it came to them being against what I'm doing now. I'd still want to save them. And I can't save them, Erin. I can't do it...because they're already dead. All I could do was bury them. I can't...but...I can save other families. Are they any worse than mine? I don't know...but it's not my place to decide that. Doesn't everyone deserve that chance?"

Erin's breathing was slow and even. Too slow, if it came right down to it. Tim knew she probably had only a few days left of her life and it broke his already-broken heart.

"Why can't I see the world like Ducky does? He sees so much good everywhere. I don't, Erin. I just don't."

The door creaked open.

"Tim?"

Tim wiped his eyes quickly before looking back. "Yeah?"

"The meeting's about to start."

"Thanks. I...I'll be right there."

"All right."

Tim stood and looked at Erin once more.

"I'm sorry I never thanked you, Erin. You introduced me to the stars when I didn't even know they existed. You were so much stronger than I was. I wish you weren't going to die."

He left the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The conference room in the library was full of people. Tim was surprised to see Ziva, Abby and Tony at the back of the group. They were talking to...to the agent Ziva had taken out at Headquarters. He was laughing.

"That's Stan Burley, my main contact at the NIU," Tobias said, noticing Tim's gaze. "I already thanked Ziva for not killing him. She said that it was only because you wouldn't let her."

"I don't want people to die for me," Tim said softly.

"Okay, let's get started!" Tobias called, giving Tim a sympathetic look. He turned back to close the door. "Hello, Jethro. Come on in."

Tim turned around and saw Gibbs coming through the door. He flushed and looked away, embarrassed.

"We have, joining us, Thom the Gem." There was a murmur through the ranks as Tobias indicated Tim sitting beside him. "This is Tim McGee. He's been writing as Thom the Gem for the last decade, writing the words we've been using ourselves."

The murmurs grew and Tobias let them for a few seconds before continuing.

"Most of you know what's at stake, what we all stand to lose, how dangerous this is going to be. Ducky and Jimmy are busy turning this place into a hospital. Jordan is across town doing the same at her place. We have a couple of others in other regions of the city. We'll keep you apprised of the safe locations. I've received word that the other centers are making ready as well. The pace of preparations means that we can start the call in a couple of days."

"And I'm going to issue it," Tim said, interrupting Tobias.

"What?"

"I'm going to issue your call for an uprising," Tim said.

"No, Tim. I'd much rather have your voice be behind the scenes. We don't want to tip our hand."

"Exactly. That's why it _has_ to be me."

"What do you mean?"

"The NIU already knows who I am. You think they won't use that? They think _you're_ dead. You're the one who's been making the plans. I should be the face, the voice. You can be the brains." Tim actually was able to smile as he said it.

Tobias couldn't help but return the grin...although he quickly became serious again. "Being the face of this revolution is dangerous. You'll be a target."

"I already am. Might as well keep the visible targets down to one. I'm...not used to making speeches in person, but I should be the one to do it. You said that I'm one of the most popular authors in the world. Who better to make people listen long enough to do something about it than Thom the Gem?"

Stan leaned forward. "He's right, Fornell. Once the Hegemony falls, until we can get the new government in place, we're going to need a visible leader."

Tim looked at him. "I...I don't want to be the leader. I don't want to be in charge. I just think that I should be the one people see."

"Exactly. You're the one they trust," a woman said from the back. "You're the one who first convinced me. If they see you, they'll want to know that you're in charge, even nominally. You can publicly hand the reins to an elected government. People will trust that."

"If you survive," another anonymous voice piped up.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Tim muttered. "How is the Hegemony going to fall?"

"We've convinced all that we can."

"How many?"

"One. The Hegemon of Asia, one Michelle Lee. The others are too...set in their ways. We're positioned to take them out."

"My wife has been the bodyguard of the SS Hegemon for the last two years," Stan said. "She's ready to move when we give her the green light."

Tim nodded but he was thinking of the horrible shock when the Hegemon realized that his bodyguard was actually his assassin.

"Necessary deaths, Tim," Tobias said, correctly interpreting his silence.

"I understand...and I'm taking a necessary risk by being the voice _and_ the face of the revolution. I have no interest in making myself the leader. If you can trust me that far, and guarantee that I won't have to be the one making the decisions...if we win...then, you can use me as a figurehead."

"I don't like it, Tim...but I agree. Any dissent?" he asked.

Silence.

"I don't know how we're going to reach a wide enough audience, though," Stan said. "We can broadcast publicly, but that's easy to block. We won't have time."

"Don't worry about that," Tim said. "I'll make sure we're heard."

"How?"

Tim's smile was bleak. "Didn't anyone tell you, Stan? I'm a genius."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

"_Are you sure you're ready for this, Tim? There's no going back once you start."_

"_I know. Everything is set up."_

"_And you're sure this is going to work?"_

"_Positive. I've tapped into the secure broadcast. It will interrupt all regularly scheduled broadcasts and send out ours. They won't be able to stop it...unless they can find a way to take down the entire network and then reboot it. Start recording before I forget what I'm going to say."_

"_You said that you don't forget."_

"_It's harder when I'm supposed to be a voice of inspiration."_

"_Recording in five...four...three...two...one..."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The first assault in every city was on the NIU headquarters. Taking out the ones who held the most dangerous weapons was a necessity. There were numerous casualties that first week.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tim looked up, took a deep breath and began._

"_My name is Tim McGee. For the last ten years, I've been trying to open your eyes to the reality of the world in which we live. I have been writing under the pseudonym of Thom the Gem. I am currently the most wanted man in the world...and apparently, a popular author. ...but I'm something else, too. I'm someone who has suffered at the hands of our government and is ready to say, 'enough!'"_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky and Jimmy were inundated with casualties...mostly civilians who were unarmed. After that first week, however, they were able to invade the armory and begin distributing weapons to the people who had risen up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I lived in Sub Salt with my family. At the age of eight, I was tested and discovered to be a genius. That began my so-called education which took the form of daily torture for the next eight years. My family, with the exception of my sister, died when Sub Salt flooded. I was sent to MIT where the torture and education continued. I only managed to get out when I created a suicide attempt that nearly killed me...just to get away from the powers that be."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs, Abby and Tony were sent out in a contingent which aimed at wresting control of the geniuses from their masters. They were successful although there was no thought that maybe the geniuses could actually join the fight. Many of them were past redemption. The few who weren't were in worse states than Tim and would be useless for anything...but they were free. Even if the war was lost, the geniuses were finally being freed. Reports from other cities came in and by the end of the second week, every genius facility in the world had been taken...sometimes with heavy casualties. One facility's controller attempted to kill all the geniuses in his residence rather than have them freed. Fifty died before he was stopped.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Two weeks ago, my sister was murdered, not by a random criminal but at the instigation of Trent Kort, agent of the NIU. This was done because he was trying to find me. He suspected someone else and hoped that the investigation would flush me out. He killed my sister, an innocent woman, simply because he knew he could get away with it. If he had managed to keep a hold of me, he would have...because people in his position don't have to pay for what they do. When I was found, I was tortured...and while some seemed to regret it, they did nothing...because the power lies in the hands of the government, not in the hands of the people."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hegemon Lee!"

"Yes?"

"You dropped this." Kate handed her a gun.

It shook in her hands. "I can't do this."

"You have to. It has to be seen as the actions of multiple layers of government. It can't just be us."

Michelle looked up, terrified. "I've never killed anyone before."

Kate smiled. "I've never let anyone in my protection die before. It'll be the first time for both of us. It has to be this way. You know that."

Michelle nodded and her hand gripped the gun more firmly before sliding both her hands back into the voluminous sleeves of her robe.

"I don't have to lead, though, do I?"

"No."

"Good. I never wanted this."

"I know. None of us wanted it to go this way, but that's how it has to go."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Why am I telling you this? Why is my life important? ...It's not. I am telling you what has happened to me to illustrate the methods of the kind of people you have leading you. I am doing this to show you the power they have, the absolute power. The only thing that keeps the entire organization from being corrupt is the morality of those who work there...and unfortunately, there are too many who are not held back by any sense of morality. There are no checks to the power of our leaders. We have no recourse. We have no say in who governs us. All we can do is..."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Shaking, her robes torn, blackened...bloodied. Michelle Lee stood in front of the camera. Carnage behind her...Kate and two other bodyguards standing silently just to her left.

"What was done here was done to save this world. The Hegemony has fallen. The absolute rulers are rulers no more. As former Hegemon of Asia, I declare this government abolished and cede authority. The government is no more. The NIU is no more."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_...fight against those who oppress us. I have told you for years about the need for us to return to the surface. We can never reach that goal if the government does not fall. We can never reach the surface as long as the Hegemony rules and the NIU enforces. People will never be free without a change in the government, without its total removal. That is what has to happen."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was easy to say that there was no more government...but much harder to get everyone to believe that. Within moments of the deaths of the Hegemons_, _the surviving heads of the branches of the NIU declared themselves leaders of their countries. It was expected. Tobias had known it would happen. That didn't make it any easier. The surviving NIU agents began to rally and the rebels were pushed back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I'm not going to pretend that it will be easy. I'm not even going to pretend that everything will be perfect when we're done. It won't be. Even if we win, things will be hard. People will want to give up. People will think that it was a waste for us to fight and die. We all have to decide what we really want. You have to decide. Do you want the easy life? One that requires no thought, no progress...but no challenge? Or do you want the life that's worth living? That life requires sacrifice. The sacrifice of comfort, of ease. None of us want that, but it requires..."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva crawled through the vent. She was small, agile. She also knew her way around the NIU. She found the secluded room where Director Morrow had hidden himself.

She aimed.

She fired.

He fell.

She crawled out the way she had come. Unobserved.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_...the sacrifice of life. Parents fight for their children. Parents will die for their children. That's what we are doing. We are fighting and dying...so that there will _be_ children. Without change, without a revolution, our children will die. Maybe not this generation. Maybe not the next, but we are headed towards extinction and we have to face the fact that this is our only hope. It's hard to see it. It's hard to admit it, but it's the truth. I have always tried to tell the truth as I know it. I have always tried to be honest even when I couldn't give all the details. I am being honest now. I am telling you what I know. I know that the human race will die if we don't change."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Two weeks became three and still the fighting raged on throughout the subterranean world. Sub Angeles was fully in control of the revolutionaries, as was Sub Rome, Sub Paris, Sub Cairo, Sub Kong and a few other smaller cities in the SS...but the NIU in Mammoth, in Carlsbad, in Sub Wales, in Sub Jerusalem and others was putting up a good fight. It was losing people daily, both to defections and to death...but the revolutionaries were losing people as well...mostly to death or injury.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I know some of you will be asking the question: Does he really mean it? Is he calling for a sacrifice he's not willing to make? No. I'm not calling for you to do anything that I myself am not willing to do. I was asked a few days ago what this all meant to me. I was asked if I really believed in my cause. I do. I am willing to die to save you. I am willing to die to save the rest of the human race."_

_Tim stood up and stared at the camera._

"_I am going to make a change. If I can't, then I will die trying. I am willing to die for you. What are you willing to do? What sacrifice will you make? If you will not fight, are you willing to support us, we who are trying to save you? Will you look the other way if you see us coming rather than reveal our location? Will you give us arms, give us rations, will you help us even if you will not or cannot fight with us?"_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We can go, Tony and I," Tim said.

"Thanks for volunteering me, McGee."

"Were you or were you not just complaining about being stuck here at the library?"

"Yes, but _I_ wanted to decide what I volunteered for."

"Fine, I'll ask Ziva instead."

"Ask me what?"

"We need to reconnoiter," Tony said.

"No, we need to resupply," Tim corrected. "Ducky told me that we're pretty much out of everything here. If the fighting surges back to this quarter of the city, he's not going to have any way of treating the casualties. More people will die."

Ziva nodded. "I will come."

"Three's a crowd, Tony," Tim said. "Looks like you're out of it."

"Nah, I'll come along."

Ziva smiled. "You cannot be shown up by a woman, yes?"

"No! No, that's not it at all!" Tony said...a little too quickly.

Tim laughed. It was a genuine laugh and he stopped out of shock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really felt like laughing.

"What's wrong, McGee?"

"I laughed," Tim said.

"Well, it was funny," Ziva said.

"Yeah...but..._I_ thought it was funny...and I laughed."

"That _is _allowed," Ziva said.

"I haven't...not since...I don't know when."

Tony smiled and put an arm around Tim's shoulders. "I guess we'll just have to make you a probationary human, then, McGee. We'll see if you can handle it."

"And then?"

"Then, we'll officially readmit you to the human race."

Tim found that it was pretty easy to smile. "Okay. How about we go out and get some supplies?"

"Sounds like a plan, Probie."

"Probie?"

"Probationary human," Tony said. "Probie."

"No way."

"Oh, yeah."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Should we not go?"

"Yeah," Tim said quickly. "Let's go."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I'm not asking you to die for me. I'm not even asking you to fight for me. I'm asking you to fight for yourselves."_

_Tim paused for a long time, almost as if he had forgotten what he was going to say._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy yawned. "I feel like we've been up for three weeks straight."

"Not quite, but I am grateful for the lull, I admit," Ducky said.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Uncle Don? I'll be up for when they get back with the supplies and then we can switch off and I can get some sleep. ...since I know I won't be able to organize it all right. You'd find _something_ wrong with it."

Ducky smiled and nodded with a vacuous yawn of his own. "I will take you up on that, Jimmy. Wake me if anything serious happens."

"I will." Jimmy sat back to wait for the return. He knew it would take a while, but he didn't mind. This was the first real downtime since the revolution had begun. He saw everyone else very rarely...for which he was grateful because if he had seen them, that would have meant they were injured and he didn't want that. One thing that _had_ been nice about the chaos of the last three weeks was that he hadn't had any time for a meltdown. He was so busy trying to save lives that he hadn't been able to spare any thoughts for anything else. Being a doctor might not be such a bad thing after all.

He'd been there for a couple of hours when a dull roar built up on the edge of his hearing and then shook him from his seat, toppling a few shelves, shaking the very walls of the library. He struggled to his feet and looked around at the chaos.

"Jimmy, are you all right?" Ducky asked, scrambling in from the other room.

"I'm...I'm fine. What _was_ that, Uncle Don?"

"It...it felt like an earthquake, but it wasn't. We don't get them here. Help me straighten up the room. I'm afraid that we might be needed."

The two of them hurried around, in what looked like a rehearsed scene, picking up the few supplies that remained, straightening the many beds (thankfully empty). It didn't take more than ten minutes...but they didn't get a chance to sit down and rest.

The library doors burst open.

"Ducky! Ducky!"

"Quickly, we need help!"

The voices were anguished, fearful. Ducky recognized them, shared a look with Jimmy and headed for the front. Tony and Ziva were there, dragging in what looked more like a mangled corpse than a human being.

"Who is that?" Ducky asked, although in his heart he knew.

The man groaned and they lay him on the floor.

"It's Tim!"

Ducky knelt beside them. Tim's body looked crushed. His face was scraped and bloody, almost obscuring his features. His clothes were torn, burned. One arm was bent at an awkward angle and there were large, expanding blood stains on his chest and legs.

"Someone...someone rigged an EM pistol to explode. Set it on the highest setting and let it go off. It was like a bomb!" Tony said, almost crying.

"He was calling for Tim's death," Ziva said, her voice low, but not quite low enough to mask the shaking.

"It was so fast, Ducky. Tim shoved us out of the way and got buried when the wall came down."

"We dug him out and moved him here as quickly as we could."

The words washed over Ducky, almost without meaning. He heard them and a part of his brain processed them, but he was conscious only of the man lying broken on the floor.

"Oh, Timothy."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I don't know about you...but I'm going to fight."_

_Then, Tim walked out of the camera shot._


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Sternly, Ducky pulled himself together.

"All right. We have to bring him back to the beds. Mr. Palmer, my bag and..." For a moment Ducky faltered as Tim's labored breathing reached his ears. "...and as many bandages as we still have. I'll also need one of the scanners. We may not be able to do anything but we will do what we can."

Tony and Ziva picked Tim up and moved him to a bed in the makeshift ER. Ducky began assessing his injuries. When he began to open what remained of Tim's shirt, Tim's eyes fluttered opened and his whole body immediately tensed with pain. His breathing was shallow and noisy.

"Oh, Timothy. Of course, you would choose to wake up now."

Tim moaned and he didn't seem exactly engaged. Jimmy came back with the bag and scanner.

"Mr. Palmer, if you would be so good."

Jimmy turned on the scanner and began to run it slowly over Tim's body. Ducky took a deep breath.

"That's bad, Dr. Mallard."

"Yes. It is."

"What?" Ziva asked. "What is wrong with him?"

"Besides the obvious, of course," Tony added.

"He has three broken ribs, a pulmonary contusion, internal bleeding, a broken arm and possibly a broken leg as well...yes, his right tibia is broken."

With a sickening gasp, Tim tried to talk. "You...should...see th'other...guy." Nearly every word was punctuated by the frightening sound of him trying to breathe.

"Yeah, well, when you're holding the weapon that blows up, McGee, that's kind of an end right there."

Another gasp and then a pained spasm, bringing his arms around his chest.

"I think you may have a pneumothorax."

Tim's eyes met Ducky's and he nodded. "I...under...stand."

"What?"

"Anthony, if you could hold Timothy still while I perform a thoracocentesis."

"A what?"

"He's going to put a needle into the space around Tim's lung so that he can breathe easier," Jimmy answered, handing the cannula to Ducky.

"A needle?"

"Yes," Ducky said with a worried expression. "There is too much pressure on his lung and with his contusion, it is already difficult to breathe....but I have no anesthetic and it will hurt. You need to keep him still. Otherwise I could puncture his lung and make things worse."

Tim let out a quick exhale, followed by a shallow inhale.

"Timothy, are you ready?"

No response. Ducky reached out and took Tim's hand.

"Squeeze my hand if you're ready for this, Timothy."

A weak, but unmistakable squeeze followed.

"All right. Hold your breath."

As quickly as he dared, Ducky slid the cannula smoothly into Tim's chest, noticing Tony's arms tightening slightly as Tim reacted to the pain, but once it was in, Tim's breathing improved noticeably, although it was still shallow and obviously painful.

"Better?"

Tim nodded and closed his eyes tightly.

"Sorry...we...lost the...supplies."

"That's all right, Timothy. We'll survive."

"...but...I might...not...right?"

"You will, Timothy. I told you before I wouldn't stand here and let you die. That hasn't changed."

"Can't you do anything, Ducky?" Tony asked.

"I'm doing what I can. Mr. Palmer, would you begin setting his arm?"

Jimmy nodded, looking pale.

"I will help," Ziva said.

Tony grabbed Ducky's arm, trying to ignore Tim's moans of pain. "What are you going to do?"

Ducky felt his heart constrict. "I don't know. I don't... Timothy needs more than I have...a lot more. All the will in the world..."

"He's going to die?" Tony asked.

Ducky couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"What about...I don't know... Dr. Hampton? Doesn't she have anything?"

"She may, but you'd have to get across the lines. It's too..."

"No, I'll go. Give me a list of what you need, and I'll get it."

"No..."

Tony turned around, and Tim was trying to sit up.

"No...Tony...don't..."

"Hey, you saved my life, McGee. I got to repay that," Tony said.

"No...you...al...ready...saved...me."

Tony came over and helped Ziva keep him down. "Doesn't count, Probie. I didn't get hurt."

"Not...Probie," Tim gasped and almost smiled.

"You are until I say otherwise. Ducky, tell me what you need. Don't worry, McGee. I'll be back before you know it."

"You should not go alone," Ziva said.

"Why? Don't think I can handle it?"

"No, I think it is safer to have two people who know in case one is killed."

"Miss Optimism, are we?"

"I will come with you. We will both know what is needed."

Ducky handed Tony a list. "Here's all that I need...as fast as you can possibly get it here."

Tony shoved the list in his pocket and he and Ziva ran out of the library. Ducky watched them go and then looked back. Jimmy was now bandaging the more minor wounds, but Tim still looked horrible.

"Ducky?"

"I'm here, lad."

"I'm...in trouble...aren't I?"

"Yes, I'm afraid you are."

"How... long do I have?"

"I told you; you're going to make it."

"Worst...case."

Ducky took Tim's hand again. "At best, without treatment, I can promise you a day. At worst...a few hours."

Tim laughed and then curled up in pain again. "Figures. ...know what's...funny, Ducky?"

"What?"

"I...I don't...want to...die anymore..."

"You won't."

"I...want to live. I want to...make it...out."

"You will."

"Promise?"

"Yes...if I have to carry you out on my back."

"I'm...sorry...Ducky...I never..."

"Don't do this, Timothy. Don't start saying good-bye. Just wait."

Tim shook his head once. "No...think...of it this...way." He stopped and panted for a few seconds. "...if I...make it...you'll have something to...hold over my head."

"Uncle Don?"

Ducky looked over at the scanner Jimmy was passing over Tim's abdomen.

"What is it...Jimmy?" Tim asked.

"You're...bleeding internally, Tim. It's pretty bad...getting worse."

"Who knew...a wall...would hurt so much?" He groaned again. "It...really...hurts, Ducky."

"I know."

"It's...hard to breathe."

"I know."

"I had a father...but you...took his place for me...and for...Sarah. Thank you."

"No, Timothy, thank _you _for allowing me to."

"I didn't...you just knew...that we...needed you. You always show up...when I need you." Tim struggled for another breath.

Ducky put a hand on his head. "It's my privilege to do so, Timothy. Just rest."

"Don't...leave me...alone...okay?"

"I won't. I'll be here as long as you need me to stay."

Tim closed his eyes and held tightly to Ducky's hand. Jimmy continued to bind up Tim's wounds...until he ran out of bandages. He looked at Ducky who just shook his head. The minor wounds would stop bleeding on their own. Infection was a worry but they had worse worries now. Tim didn't speak again during the long hour that followed. He would open his eyes every so often, but he didn't say anything. His lips became blue-tinged as his ability to breathe deteriorated. Ducky just stayed. He couldn't do anything now but sit. He was a believer in doing what was possible.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Wait! There is a blockade on that street!" Ziva protested.

"We can get past it. I know a back way."

"They are NIU agents guarding it. Would they not _also_ know the back way?"

"Oh... right." Tony grinned in a little bit of embarrassment. "I've been fighting against them for almost a month and I still can't keep it in my head that they're the bad guys."

"Not all of them are, but they would still kill us; so let us take the long way."

Tony nodded and they ran down a side street, crisscrossing the city, working their way to Jordan's home.

"Stop! Identify yourselves!"

The voice, coming from an alley, stopped Tony in his tracks.

"Ron? Ron Sacks?"

Ron stepped out, holding a gun on them. "Tony? You joined up with them. You're one of them."

"Yeah, I am. Please, Ron, you have to let us go."

Ziva stirred.

"No, Ziva. Wait. Ron..."

"You betrayed every oath we took when we joined the NIU," Ron said, not relenting at all.

"Yeah...do you know why? Because the oaths we took were a sham to cover up everything that was wrong. Come on, Ron. You know the kinds of things that have been done. You didn't like it any more than I did."

"Please," Ziva said. "We are trying to save a good man's life."

"One of the revolutionaries."

"Yes, but that does not stop him from being a good man."

"We have to have order," Ron said.

"And we will, Ron. It will take time, but we will. Come on, I'm not even asking you to defect. I just want you to...look the other way and let us pass."

"Yeah and then you'll get caught again and _I'll_ be the one who falls for it."

"We won't get caught again."

Ron didn't move.

"Ron, I don't want anyone here to die and you know that if you don't, someone will...probably you. ...and I don't want that. Do you?"

"Why me?"

"Because you're outnumbered...and well...Ziva here's pretty scary."

"Mossad?"

"Yes. I was."

"I don't want you to die, Ron...and I don't want to die, myself."

"You've already been killing other NIU agents."

"Yeah...because we're at war. I don't like it but it has to be done. The government has to fall...and something better has to be put in its place."

"You guys are going to make something better?"

"We're going to try. I can't promise it will be easy...but what was going on before is worse."

The standoff was taking too long. Tony knew it...but he _knew_ Ron and didn't want to give him up.

"You've seen what the NIU has been doing. You've seen their methods of maintaining order. Do you want _that_ to become the status quo? Do you really not care about saving lives anymore, Ron?"

Ron looked at him for a long moment...and then, dropped his arm. "Go. Now...before I change my mind."

"Thanks, Ron..."

"Just get out of here."

Tony nodded and ran, Ziva right beside him.

"That was an unnecessary risk."

"No, it was a _necessary_ risk. Ron's a good guy. We're not like the NIU. We don't kill good people."

"As you say."

"I do. Let's just get there."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Stars..."

"What, Timothy?"

"I see...stars. Have...you...seen them, Ducky?"

"No. I'm afraid I haven't."

"They're...beautiful." Tim's eyes opened but they were no longer seeing what was there.

"Just rest."

"_We see...Orion...rising!_" Tim almost sounded like he was singing.

"What?"

"The...first thing...I see...in the night...the stars...are ours..."

"What stars, Timothy?" Ducky asked, although he knew that Tim didn't really hear him anymore.

"I didn't...even...care about anything...else. Up...at the stars." Tim smiled and hunched over and began coughing. Ducky tried to help, but there was little he could do. When the coughing fit passed, there was blood on the sheets, running out of Tim's mouth.

His breathing was much worse when he subsided and Ducky couldn't stop himself from crying. He knew exactly what needed to be done to save Tim, but he had _nothing_ with which to do it. Tim needed artificial ventilation, surgery to stop his internal bleeding and deal with the shock, painkillers...and he had none of those things. Instead, he was being forced to watch Tim slowly die, in great pain, with no other alternative.

"Fight, Timothy. Fight it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"There it is! There's her house!" Tony said, and began to run, forcing Ziva to keep up...which she did quite handily.

"Wait, we should be sure that it is safe."

"Right."

They ran a quick perimeter. All seemed secure and so Tony pounded on the door.

"Dr. Hampton!"

The door opened, but with a gun in the opening rather than a face.

"State your business."

"Paula, it's all right. I know them."

"Paula!" Tony exclaimed. "You're...looking much better."

The gun came down. "Tony...uh...come in!"

"Expecting someone else?"

"No...just anyone...that's all." Paula seemed a little embarrassed as she stood back.

"What's going on?" Jordan asked. "I haven't heard from anyone since Tobias told me that the fighting was shifting to the south quarter. I haven't even had any casualties in a week."

"Are you stocked?"

"Yes...mostly. I'm running low on a few things but..."

"We need what you have...not all of it, but..."

"Tim has been injured and Ducky's stores are completely gone," Ziva finished.

"Oh, no. Not Tim. Tell me what you need."

Tony took the list out of his pocket and Jordan's expression became grave as she scanned it.

"He really does have nothing."

"Yeah. Tim's really bad."

"I have everything he needs."

"That's great. That's really great. Give it to us and we'll get back."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"Ducky will need my help."

Ziva shook her head. "We only barely made it here as it is. It would be too much of a risk."

Paula walked over. "No, Jordan. If you're going, I'm going, too."

"Four people wandering Mammoth at this time will be too visible."

"But Ducky will need my help. If you really want Tim to survive, you'll need me." Jordan smiled. "Besides, you're not going to talk me out of it. I can always wait until you leave and then sneak out myself. Don't you want the chance to protect me?"

"Okay, okay. Let's just get going. Time's already passing too fast."

"You're right. It is. It will take me two minutes to get everything. Paula, you really should stay."

Tony noticed that Paula's arm hung limply at her side and that she was holding her gun in her other hand. She caught him staring.

"I don't need both arms to run. I can shoot just as well with this hand as I could with the other. I'm not going to stay here and wait. I'm coming."

Jordan didn't bother to dissuade her. Instead, she ran to her stores and filled a bag with everything on the list Tony had given her...and a lot more than that. She filled her own bag and then filled Tony's and tossed it back to him.

"We need more than just the immediate needs. This will do...for now. Let's go."

Then, she headed for the door, checked a monitor beside it and nodded. Her protectors were hard-pressed to catch up.

It took them two hours to get through the city, having to avoid patrols, the blockade...pretty much everyone...just in case.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky listened to Tim's breathing. It was fast, shallow and occasionally punctuated by bouts of painful coughing when he brought up blood. He had checked Tim's vitals. His heart rate was high. Every inhalation brought with it the sound of rales. His blood pressure was plummeting. A day had been an overly-optimistic estimate. Tim would be lucky if he had six hours left.

"Don't die, Timothy. Not now. I don't want to have to sit here and just watch you fade away. Keep fighting."

"He'll make it, Uncle Don. He will," Jimmy said. "He's fought everything else. He's made it this far. He'll make it the rest of the way."

Ducky smiled but couldn't maintain the expression. His own hope was fading.

"Believe it, Uncle Don. He said he wanted to live. He will if he wants to."

Another coughing fit had Tim curling into a fetal position while both Jimmy and Ducky balanced him and wiped his mouth.

"Daddy...tell me...a story..." Tim's eyes didn't open and his voice trailed off to nothing...but the weak breathing continued.

"What would you like me to tell you about?"

"Home..."

Ducky inhaled sharply, feeling almost pained by the request. He was surprised to feel Jimmy's hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"Your home or my home?"

"No...home...now..."

"You always have a home. With me, Timothy, you always have a home."

Whatever response Tim made was lost in the front doors bursting open again.

"Ducky! We're back!"

That was all the warning he got before he was enveloped in a quick hug.

"I'm glad you're all right, Donnie."

"I'm surprised to see you here, Jordan."

"You'll need me."

"I'm glad you came. I couldn't have asked for it though."

"That's because you're stubborn." She released him and looked at Tim. "Oh...dear."

"He's still alive."

"We can't sedate him. His respiration would crash." She quickly opened her bag and set up an oxygen tank. "Tim, I'm Jordan Hampton. I'm just going to put an oxygen mask over your face. It will help you breathe."

"You brought–?"

"Everything on your list and more. I think a nerve blockade would be the best to start. It will at least dampen the pain and let him breathe better."

"We need to stop the internal bleeding."

"Yeah. Let's do that right now. We don't have time to turn this place into a real OR. Let's just get it done. Tim, we need to operate, but we can't sedate you in your current condition. We'll use a local anesthetic, but you're going to be awake for it. Do you understand? Squeeze Donnie's hand twice if you understand me."

Ducky felt the pressure and nodded.

"Okay. Just hang on, Tim. We'll get you fixed up in a jiffy."

She spoke the words but Ducky could see the doubt in her eyes. She wasn't sure if it wasn't already too late. He wasn't sure of that either...but nothing would stop him from trying. As they prepped for surgery...at top speed, Jimmy began setting up curtains to help control the traffic at least. He sterilized the gloves they'd be using and stood ready to help. By the time they were ready, Tim's breathing had slowed and deepened somewhat. His eyes fluttered open.

"Ducky..." he breathed.

"What, Timothy?"

"Thank you..."

"You're welcome."

"Tim, can you feel that?" Jordan asked as she prodded his abdomen.

"Feel...what?"

"Good. We're going to get started now. You need to stay absolutely still. Understand?"

"Yes..."

"Jimmy, are you ready to assist?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"My name is Jordan. You can call me that."

"Yes, ma'am...Jordan."

The surgery took a long time. The internal bleeding was severe and required a lot of blood to replace that which had been lost, blood which, thankfully, could be synthesized. That ended up being Jimmy's job through most of the surgery: keeping Tim well-supplied with blood. He hovered in the realm between conscious and unconscious throughout the long hours. Once, they had to stop their work because he began to react to the stresses on his body. It took twenty minutes to get him stable enough to continue.

Finally, after six hours of surgery, they were able to close up. Tim was still breathing...but he was no longer awake. At some point, he had slipped silently into unconsciousness and he didn't respond to anything. No squeezing hands, no words. Just the sound of his breathing which was muffled by the oxygen mask and which sounded slightly better than it had before.

Paula, Tony and Ziva both stood quickly.

"Is he all right?"

"He's alive," Jordan replied. "We'll have to wait and see. The damage might have been too great, the delay too long. We just don't know yet."

"Someone will need to stay with him. At this point, any physical instability could be fatal," Ducky said, feeling incredibly weary. He was definitely not as young as he used to be.

"I'll stay with him, for now," Tony said instantly, beating Ziva to it. "You look exhausted...and you don't look much better, Jimmy. I dozed while I was waiting."

Ducky could only nod. He was so tired...and could barely even feel anxious in his current state.

"Uncle Don? Uncle Don?"

"Oh...yes, Jimmy?"

"I said that I'll show Tony the range we're watching for; so he'll know if anything is wrong."

"All right, lad. I think I need some sleep."

"Yes, Donnie. You really do. Allow me to lead you to your bed. I think you'll get lost otherwise."

Ducky mustered a smile for Jordan and allowed her to lead him. She helped him lay down and then covered him with a blanket and kissed his cheek.

"Sleep, Donnie. You've done all you could...and Tim's not alone."

"Thank you, Jordan. For everything."

"I'm one of his admirers, Donnie. I couldn't pass up the opportunity." Then, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'm one of _your_ admirers, too. You deserve the blessing of his survival. Good night."

"Good night, my dear."

Nothing could keep him from sleep, and Ducky could only try and hold onto the hope that Tim would survive the night.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

"It's weird to walk through the streets and have _no_ one be here," Abby said.

"I'd prefer that to having people taking potshots at us from the windows like they've been having in Sub Phoenix," Tobias muttered. "As long as we keep this area secured, I think we're pretty safe."

"I'm just glad that they gave up in the north quarter," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, but I'm worried about that rumor. It's been going around for a week now. I don't like people thinking that Tim is dead."

"They would have found a way to tell us if something had happened, right?" Abby asked. "I wish we could use the wristbands."

"Not until we can get control of the hub. Otherwise, the NIU will be able to trace every single message we send."

"I know. I just feel kind of helpless without it."

"Where could a rumor like that have started?" Tobias asked, coming back around to his greatest concern. "It's bad for morale. We're getting a firmer grip on Mammoth and I'd like that trend to continue. Besides, I don't want it spreading outside of the city."

"Tim'll be okay. They'd be broadcasting it everywhere if the NIU had him...and that wouldn't happen," Abby said, talking more for her own sake than anything. "You left him at the library to keep him safe, right? There's no reason for him to get into the fight again."

"Except that I'm sure he knows what you were doing when you sent him back there," Gibbs said. "He's not stupid."

"Yeah, and he knows _why_ I did it, too. His little stunt two weeks ago nearly got him killed. We don't need martyrs."

"He's been different, though," Abby said. "Acting different. He's...I don't know...more real?"

"All the more reason to keep him safe...out of the way. His broadcasts have definitely been getting better."

The three of them came around the corner and stopped. The open square in front of the library had been kept mostly secure throughout the revolution. They'd been able to take the fight directly to the NIU and keep it away from what had been their headquarters. Now...

"What happened?" Abby whispered.

One whole wall of a building opposite the library had come down. Carefully, Gibbs approached it, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be gunning for them.

"Someone was hurt here," he said in a low voice. "There's blood...quite a bit of it."

Abby gasped. "Tim?"

"Who knows?"

"I'll bet the people in there do," Tobias said and took off for the library. The damage was old...at least a week, maybe more. That made him more anxious than he wanted to admit. Erin was still in there as well...and what if she...

The security system was still engaged and that made him feel a little better as he disengaged it and charged inside.

There was no one in front and he knew better than to shout...or maybe it was just all his years as a librarian. He sensed Abby and Gibbs behind him and figured they'd take the time to engage the lock. Even though he wanted to check on Erin, he had to find out what had happened first.

"Tobias...Boss...Abby...what are you guys doing here?" Tony asked in surprise as he came out of the ER.

"Is something wrong with Tim?" Abby asked.

Tony's face said it all.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

Tony gestured for them to follow him and they went back into the ER. At the back of the room was the only occupied bed. Ziva sat motionless beside it and Abby whimpered when she realized who was in it.

"We were gathering supplies because Ducky was totally out of so many things. A guy ambushed us on the way back, started shouting that Tim deserved to die and that he would take him out." Tony's mouth twisted for a moment before he got himself back under control again. "Tim pushed me and Ziva out of the way...just before the guy blew up his EM pistol...and took out the entire wall. Tim was trapped under it...along with the supplies we'd just gotten. He's been in a coma ever since Jordan and Ducky operated on him."

"A coma?" Abby asked.

"Yeah. Ducky said that it's actually a good thing because it's giving his body a chance to rest while it heals, but...I hate seeing him lying there. He saved my life, Boss."

"He's been out for how long?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Man, I'm not even sure. The days are kind of blurring together."

"It has been nine days," Ziva said in a low voice from beside the bed. "Tomorrow will make ten."

"Someone has been with him the whole time, but Ducky says that he's stabilizing on his own. I don't know exactly what the means but..." Tony lowered his voice. "...but I think Ducky's afraid Tim is still going to die. ...and if Ducky does..."

"Ducky's still human," Gibbs said. "He's not perfect."

"I've just never seen Ducky lose hope before. I don't like it."

Tentatively, Abby approached the bed. She hadn't seen Tim as he had been initially; so all she saw was the damage, none of the healing that had been taking place. She started to cry.

"Oh, it's not fair."

"He's a lot better than he was, Abbs," Tony said. "Promise. You can barely hear him breathing anymore. That's a _lot_ better than the wheezing he was doing before."

Ziva nodded quickly. "Yes. All the monitors say that he is getting better."

"He can't breathe on his own?"

"Not well enough when he's unconscious. His lungs were damaged and this is helping him. Part of the reason he's out is also because they've been giving him some heavy-duty painkillers. It helps him breathe better."

Abby nodded.

"How's Erin?" Tobias asked no one in particular.

"She's...sleeping...mostly," Tony answered.

He nodded.

"Abby, would you mind?"

She smiled and shook her head. After she was gone, Tobias met both Tony's and Ziva's gaze.

"How bad was it?"

"He almost died," Ziva said. "Even after they operated, Jordan and Ducky were not certain that he would survive it. That he has is a good sign."

"Did he look dead when you pulled him out?"

"Yes."

"That would explain the rumor."

"What rumor?" Tony asked. "We've only gone out to scavenge for more stuff."

"It's spreading around the city that Tim is dead. That's one of the reasons I wanted to get back here. I'm glad he's not, but we can't prove it by showing people a scene like this."

"Well, duh, Tobias," Tony said. "You can't just parade Tim around. He's not a trained seal!"

"Tony!" Gibbs said.

"You haven't been sitting here watching him, Boss! You guys haven't been here waiting to see if he was going to die. You haven't been here, knowing that the only reason he's like this is because he saved your life!"

"Tony!" Gibbs said again, and shook him a little. "That's not what he meant and you know it. Tim knew what he was taking on when he decided to be the face people associated with the revolution. He knew it and he wouldn't blame Tobias for it. This is something we have to think about! We don't want everything to fall apart because Tim got injured. Tim wouldn't want that, not after all this effort."

Tony nodded and subsided. "I just..."

"I know. He saved your life."

"Yeah."

"He'll make it," Jimmy said firmly from the doorway. "Tim won't die."

Everyone stared at him in surprise and he flushed a little but he refused to back down.

If wishing could make things so, Tim would wake up in no time. Tobias, Gibbs and Abby stayed at the library for the next week. Tim stirred once or twice but never awakened.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kate rubbed her eyes wearily. Holding Sub Hague was hard. It wasn't that there was a lot of fighting. There wasn't, but it was supposed to be the center of governance and there _was_ no government. There couldn't be while half the cities in the world were still in conflict. It was the stress of making sure that no one else came in and tried to set up another oppressive government. She'd already had to help to push out a foray from Sub Moscow. The NIU was particularly entrenched there. Then, too, there were so many questions coming to this area. It made her extremely tense. She was much better being in on the action. Straightening, she began to roll her head side to side, trying to get the kinks out of it.

"Why don't I help you with that?"

The voice made her turn around excitedly.

"Stan!"

In a moment of very un-Kate-like joy, she threw her arms around him and held him close.

"I think you may have missed me a little bit."

"I wasn't even sure if you were alive! The news casts aren't reliable enough to know what to believe."

Stan smiled and relished the chance to be with his wife.

"It's been almost two months!"

"I know."

"How did you even get over here? I didn't think there was _any_ movement across the Atlantic."

"No _official_ traffic. I told Tobias that I would be as much help over here as I was over there," he said and kissed her ear.

"Help? That's what you call this?"

"Yes. You're obviously too stressed to get anything done. You need someone to help you relax."

Kate pulled away and tried to look stern, but it was impossible. She grinned.

"You willing to put me back in the right frame of mind for coordinating a revolution?"

"Oh, definitely...if you have the time."

"I think I might...have a few minutes." Then, unexpectedly, she felt tears in her eyes and she held him tightly again. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Stan's hug felt like it was going to crush her but she relished feeling him with her again.

"I was thinking the very same thing, Kate."

It was the moments of sunlight in the dreary world that made it all worth it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a strange sensation, like swimming from darkness into light...feeling the pressure, the weight of the world it seemed sinking in on top of him, holding him down. He didn't want to be held down any longer. He could hear the voices around him, feel the presence of people and he fought towards it. It had been too long since he had felt them close, too many years.

There was a hand holding his own.

"Daddy?" he whispered.

"Tim?"

He tried to open his eyes. Daddy didn't feel right. That wasn't the right person. He shouldn't be calling for him. Dad was dead, had been for a long time. Years.

"Tim, did you say something?"

Who should he be asking for? He wasn't sure. His mind was full of cotton and he couldn't seem to make his eyes open.

"Tim..."

_Jimmy_. The name floated up from the dark recesses of his brain. _Jimmy Palmer. His parents are dead...like mine._

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me, Tim."

"Ducky?"

"I'll get him. You want to talk to him?"

"Yeah." That sounded right. He remembered another awakening, years ago, and Ducky was there then. He should be here now. It was the way things needed to be. That's all he was sure of, even as he tried to think of where he was, what was going on...but he knew that he was better off than he had been the last time he had awakened.

There was something covering the lower half of his face and it was a little irritating. He tried to make his arm lift to move it, but it wouldn't do what he told it to.

Something told him that he shouldn't force himself to move...and that he should be careful about breathing. He wasn't quite sure why.

_Where is Ducky?_

"Timothy?"

There it was. Tim smiled.

"Ducky."

Arms around him, almost like his father would have done, lifting him up even though he couldn't do anything himself.

"Welcome back, Timothy."

Ducky was crying.

At first, he just lay there limply, not sure what else to do...but then, there was a thought and he struggled to get his arms to move. Weakly, he tried to return the hug.

"Thank you...Ducky."

"I was so afraid that..."

"You said...you said that I wouldn't die."

"Yes, I did...but I was beginning to lose hope."

He felt himself gently returned to the bed and again, he tried to open his eyes.

This time, his lids lifted and he felt tears of his own as he looked at his guardian. Ducky had _never_ lost hope. Not that he'd _ever_ shown.

"Am I...going to make it, Ducky?"

"I think you are, lad. I think you are."

"Good...because I have lots to do." He smiled through his tears and then began to cry. "Thank you, Ducky. Thank you."

Ducky hugged him again and didn't (or perhaps _couldn't_) respond.

All Tim could say, over and over, was, "Thank you." ...trying to express all the gratitude he'd never shown in the years that had come before.

"Thank you."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Two days later Erin died...or rather, two days later Erin's _body_ died. Her spirit had mostly been destroyed years before leaving behind a broken child in soul and a computer in mind. Abby and Tobias had been spending the most time with her, even though she was rarely conscious. Ducky had been able to inform Tobias of the coming departure. It had been a miracle that she had lasted as long as she had. ...and it was a miracle that she had awakened once more before she died.

"Daddy?"

"I'm here."

Erin opened her eyes and smiled at her father...a child's trusting smile.

"I'm tired."

"You can sleep. I'll stay and watch."

"What's happening?"

Tobias managed a smile. "You're leaving, Erin. You're leaving this place."

"Will I ever come back?"

"I don't think so."

Erin's brow furrowed. "Will I ever see you again?"

"I hope so."

"Will I see Mommy?"

"She'll be waiting for you. When you get there, she'll see you." He felt the tears and tried not to cry.

"You're sad, Daddy."

"That's because I'm going to miss you...and I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she said. "How am I going to get there?"

"You're going to go to sleep. That's all. When you wake up, you'll be there."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Will you sing to me, Daddy?"

"Of course."

"Sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'."

Tobias wasn't sure he'd be able to do it, but he cleared his throat and began to sing.

"_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
__How I wonder what you are  
__Up above the world so high  
__Like a diamond in the sky,  
__Twinkle, twinkle, little star  
__How I wonder...what you are."_

Erin smiled and her eyes began to close. "Will I see the stars when I go to sleep?"

"Yes, Erin. You'll see the stars."

"Then, sing it all, Daddy. Sing the whole thing."

Tobias hugged Erin tightly in his arms, feeling her slow, faltering heartbeat, the shallow breaths as her body wound down.

"Close your eyes. Go to sleep," he whispered.

"Sing it all, please."

Tears running down his cheeks, Tobias sang.

"_When the blazing sun is gone,  
__When he nothing shines upon,  
__In the dark blue sky you keep,  
__And often through my curtains peep,  
__Then you show your little light,  
__Twinkle, twinkle, all the night._

_Then the traveller in the dark,  
__Thanks you for your tiny spark,  
__He could not see which way to go,  
__If you did not twinkle so.  
__For you never shut your eye,  
__Till the sun is in the sky._

_As your bright and tiny spark,  
__Lights the traveller in the dark,—  
__Though I know not what you are,  
__Twinkle, twinkle, little star.  
__Twinkle, twinkle, little star  
__How I wonder...what you...are."_

Erin slipped away an hour after her eyes closed for the last time. Smoothly shifting from living to dead and Tobias never left her side, not once. Nor did Abby. She sat in silent vigil with him and with Ducky who would determine the time of death. When Erin breathed her last breath, when her heart finally stopped, Tobias gestured for Ducky to check her...to tell him that she was really gone. At his nod, Tobias also nodded and then began to sob. He held Erin and Abby held him. Together, they grieved for the loss. The librarian who had never shown anything but mischief and mystery was now simply a grieving father who had lost his daughter.

In a sense, Erin had been lost from the start. From the moment they had found her, she was living on borrowed time...but it was still heartbreaking

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was late at night, a few days after they had snuck out to bury Erin in the Mammoth cemetery. They had control of the area of the city where the cemetery was located but still, they were cautious. Tim had insisted on coming...even if he was still in such a state that he couldn't actually do anything to help. There had been a pall over the library and no one was speaking much to each other. Ziva and Tony had gone to the south quarter of the city where there were still some skirmishes going on, but the others were still there.

Tobias was still awake. He hadn't been able to decide how he felt about Erin's death. Certainly, he was mourning...but it didn't have the pang it might have because he had mourned her already, years ago, when he assumed she'd died. And yet... he couldn't help but wish that there had been a miracle.

As he walked through the library, he heard something from the Sound Room.

_It couldn't be Tim. He can barely walk right now._

...but it was. He looked in and saw Tim sitting in a chair, head pillowed on his arm, one hand beating the rhythm of the song playing on the ancient player.

"_These days it's all in the mind.  
__It's elemental  
__Don't say you're up when you're down  
__It's elemental."_

Every so often, he would hear snatches of words from Tim. He was also singing along, very softly, but still doing it. The song ended and Tim pushed a button a few times. Something about the way Tim was sitting kept Tobias from interrupting. Besides, he hadn't heard Tim sing since the revolution had begun...which was sad in a way...like a child being forced to grow up and put aside everything else.

Another song began, and Tobias listened. He'd never understood Tim's fondness for these old songs.

"_Laid so low, for so long  
__Into that void of silence  
__Where we cry without sound  
__Where tears roll down  
__Where tears roll down..."_

Then, suddenly, he noticed that there was something on the monitor as well. It wasn't much that he could see at first...but then, he saw that it was an image of the sky.

"_Made a mess, I guess...I should have known  
__That life was lust and liberty  
__Not a chance mutation or the last temptation  
__Laid so low, so long, so low..."_

"Tim?"

Tim sat up with a start and turned...and then winced as he moved too quickly.

"What are you doing up? I thought Ducky was strapping you to your bed to make you sleep."

Tim smiled, and it was amazing how that smile, which was still too rare, could transform his whole face, making him seem years younger.

"I guess he didn't tie the straps tight enough tonight." He looked at the screen. "I wasn't tired. Slept for a couple of hours but I woke up and wasn't tired." He reached out and turned off the music. "I thought I had it low enough that no one would hear."

"I was awake anyway."

"You doing okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Not stellar by any means, but okay. She's happier now than she was."

"Sometimes I wonder if Sarah is happier," Tim said softly.

"I have to believe that there's something better waiting for us."

"Why?"

"Because the alternatives are too depressing."

Tim smiled and reached out to turn off the monitor.

"Wait. What is that?"

Tim actually looked guilty. "Just a video."

"Of the sky?"

"Yeah."

Tobias looked at the monitor. Nothing was happening. It was just a camera pointing at the night sky, with the occasional view of a tree branch invading the space.

"Why would someone make a movie like this?"

"I like it," Tim said and reached out one hand toward it before seeming to remember where he was.

"Okay...but what about people from however many thousands of years ago."

Tim shrugged. "Have you seen some of the music videos people made? They're crazy."

"This is boring."

"No, it's not," Tim disagreed. "I could stare at it for hours."

"And have?" Tobias asked pointedly.

"Tonight was the first time in a while." Tim grabbed Tobias' arm and pulled him down to sit on a chair. "Here, just look at it. Look and don't think about it being an image on a screen. Look at it...like we do."

"Who?"

"People who know," Tim said and stared at the screen raptly.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me exactly what's going on here?"

Tim leaned back. "Because you're paranoid?"

"Tim. Have you ever lied to me?"

"I've never told you the whole truth...but I've never lied."

"Should that make me trust you more?"

"I don't know. I've never worried about that before."

"Are you worried about it now?"

"I'm trying to be...but I'm not yet." He shrugged and then winced.

"You should probably go back to bed."

"Probably..." Tim looked at the screen again. "Tobias?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Find the balance between caring too much and not caring enough."

"When you figure it out, you can tell me."

Tim turned off the screen, although there was noticeable reluctance.

"There are other things that need to be done. Figuring myself out has to take a back seat to everything else."

"It's not all about everyone else. You're a part of the revolution...and you're a part of the ones who benefit. It's not all about sacrifice. You can do more than one thing at a time...and it's not all about lying."

Tim looked at the blank screen and then looked back.

"There's a time and place for everything. This isn't the time and place." Carefully, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane Ducky had convinced him to use.

"There's a time and place for everything," Tobias repeated. "We can _make_ a time and place for what's necessary...for ourselves _and_ for everyone else."

Tim shook his head and smiled. "Maybe for other people. I'm still a probationary human being, Tobias. I can barely tolerate feelings...let alone that level of complexity. ...but I think that I _will_ go to bed."

Tobias watched him limp slowly away and was amazed at how much more..._alien _Tim seemed now that he was trying to be human. Was it better or worse? Who knew?

He looked back at the blank screen. No wonder Tim loved to see them. The stars...living in the stars...the ultimate symbol of freedom for people who had been trapped their whole lives.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_...You're all looking to me as the leader of this revolution, and it's a necessity in a way, but you can't have all you believe depend upon my life or my death. It has to be something you feel inside yourself. The need for change is not just in the government. It's in all of us."_

"_The real problem we have faced is not so much a government as a mindset. The Hegemony could never have controlled us if we didn't let them do it. We have become complacent, too easy. That has to change."_

Gibbs watched as Tim made yet another broadcast. In the weeks that had followed his awakening, he had been make quite a few of them. There had been an underlying theme to each speech: the idea that Tim's life or death could not mean anything to the validity of the revolution. He was still very obviously injured although healing.

"He's losing his spark."

Gibbs looked over his shoulder. Ducky was looking at Tim as he sat and spoke.

"He's giving up his life, his dreams, for this thing."

"You don't think he believes in it?" Gibbs asked.

"No, I think he does...but he also believes that it deserves every inch of him."

"_...and at this moment, the places where people are talking outnumber the places where people are fighting. Talking, not killing. Discussion rather than destruction. Even if a concensus can't be reached, this is progress, something we should encourage. The fighting is a necessity when there is no other way to get change...but when a new way opens up, then it deserves the chance. I'm inviting dialogue...and I'm inviting everyone to understand the meaning what we're doing. Understand...don't just follow mindlessly. No one deserves to lead without being asked the hard questions. Ask. Think. Don't just follow."_

The camera stopped rolling and Tim exhaled in relief, rolling his shoulders and arching his back painfully. Then, he smiled as Abby gave him a brief hug, one he only belatedly returned. He still walked with a bit of a limp, but he was doing much better. Not realizing that he was being watched, after Abby left, he cast a brief glance upward and sighed. Then, he looked over and noticed them watching and he gave a small smile.

"It was so feeble to begin with that I'm afraid it's going to go out again," Ducky said in a low voice as Tim came over. "That was a nice speech, Timothy."

"You seem to be hammering the idea that you're not as important as the revolution itself."

Tim nodded. "The revolution is a thing all its own. It can't depend on me or anyone else. It's about more than a person. It's about the whole human race. I can't be all that matters. ...besides, if people just turn off their brains and follow whoever is leading, the same problem will exist again. Putting all the decisions into the hands of the people in charge and not thinking about maintaining some control, some...balance of power. We're really trying to change _people_ more than governments."

"You've gone through quite a few changes yourself, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Maybe not as much as you think I have, but yeah, I've changed some. Enough? I don't know." He sighed again. "I guess I have lots of time, though."

Ducky looked at Gibbs as Tim headed back to the main part of the library.

"We need to do something for him, Jethro."

"Yeah. He needs something...but what can we do?"

"I'm not sure, but he can't just be the leader and nothing else. Timothy is losing his own identity. That's not a good thing. As fragile and fractured as it was before, it was still his own. Now, his identity is becoming...everyone else's."

"The revolution will end, Ducky."

"But not soon enough, I fear."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"Thank you. I almost lost him to himself and to injury...I don't want to lose him to a cause."

Gibbs nodded and traced Tim's path...back to the Sound Room. He was sitting at the terminal and staring at a video of a beach. There was nothing there, no action, no music. Just the waves crashing on the beach. Tony had told him about that, and Tim had shown him when he had asked. He didn't understand why Tim found these videos so engrossing, but he did and he was looking at them wistfully.

There had to be something they could do. Nodding to himself, he headed away, in search of Tobias.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

The south quarter fell to the revolutionaries and all of Mammoth was in their nominal control. Five other cities were in similar situations by the end of the next week, and Gibbs' request to Tobias finally had a moment to be implemented. Ducky, Jimmy and Jordan had been called to the south quarter to help with the final casualties, but in his absence, Gibbs figured that the two of them would be good enough.

They knew where Tim would be. Every waking moment when he wasn't working on the revolution, he was in the Sound Room, sometimes listening to music, but most of the time just staring at those boring movies of scenery. There were about five he seemed to cycle through...and he always watched the one of the night sky at night. He always looked a little guilty when people caught him at it...as if he was doing something shameful rather than looking at a boring scene.

"Hey, Tim," Tobias said softly...mainly to avoid overly startling Tim. It was strange, but Tim had become amazingly easy to sneak up on.

There was a small jump and he turned around. Upon seeing the two of them, he looked a little wary.

"Am I in trouble again?"

"Again?" Gibbs asked.

"Last time you two ganged up on me it was because of that risk I took in getting involved in the fighting in the east quarter."

"You're not in trouble, McGee."

"Okay...then, why are you here? It can't be because of the last broadcast. You were both there for it. What's going on?"

"We just wanted to talk to you about something, Tim. Don't worry."

"About what?" Tim asked, turning back to turn off the screen which was currently displaying a view of mountains with trees waving back and forth in a high wind.

"No, leave it on, McGee."

Tim's hand stopped and he looked at them both again.

"What's going on?" he repeated.

"Things are starting to settle down."

"Yeah, I know. Abby has been ecstatic about being able to use her wristband ever since we took the south quarter...but we're not really settled there yet."

"I know. Tim, that's going to take years."

Tim nodded, looking gloomy for a moment before wiping the negative expression off his face.

"I've always known it would. Revolutions, in order to be successful, have to be years in the making and years in the execution...but we've made a _lot_ of progress in the last few months...and a lot of it has been due to you."

Tim shifted uncomfortably. "It's what I had to do."

"And you did it well, McGee," Gibbs said. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not. It's just that...well, I'm not really doing much. Ever since you banished me here, I've mostly been talking." He smiled a little.

"Yes, talking about things that make people more amenable to change," Tobias said, firmly. "You're getting people to think and that has helped more than anyone could have anticipated."

"Okay...is that all you wanted?" he asked.

"No. Tim...you've been helping me achieve my dream, and we're closer to it now than we ever have been. I think that within a year, we'll be able to have elections...for the first time in hundreds of years." Tobias leaned forward earnestly. "Tim, you've done more than I could ever have asked of you. So... why don't I help _you_ achieve _your_ dream?"

For a long moment, Tim just stared at him, almost like Tobias had suddenly started spouting gibberish. Then, he blinked a few times, his eyes shifting back and forth between Tobias and Gibbs, waiting for one of them to say "just kidding" or something like that. It took a full minute for a tentative hope to show in his face...and he said nothing the entire time although his mouth moved as if he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words.

"No," he said finally.

"No?" Gibbs asked, confused.

"No...no...you can't be...you can't be saying that I'm...don't..." He started to stand up, looking betrayed.

Tobias grabbed him and pushed him back down onto the chair.

"Breathe, Tim. We're not lying to you. Now...I can't guarantee that it won't take a while to find our way out...nor can I guarantee that you'll find anything up there worth seeing, but we're going to try."

Tim's eyes darted back and forth again.

"Don't...lie to me...okay? Don't."

"We're not lying, McGee. It's the truth."

Tim's expression was so painful to see that Gibbs almost wished that they _had_ waited for Ducky to get back before doing this. He hadn't anticipated Tim's disbelief.

"Why do you think we would lie to you, Tim?" Tobias asked.

Again, Tim's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "That's how it always was. They would tell me what I wanted to hear...and then..."

"We're not like them."

"I know," Tim whispered, staring at the floor.

"Then, believe us. We're going to help you get to the surface, even if it takes weeks."

Tim's head dropped until they couldn't see his face. Having the benefit of long experience with Tim even before the revolution, Tobias held Gibbs back and waited while Tim processed it all in his mind. It took about five minutes.

Then, his head lifted again and he was almost smiling.

"You mean it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You're not lying."

"No."

The smile took tentative root on his face. "Then...then, did my apartment survive the fighting around there?"

"Your apartment?" Gibbs asked. "I have no idea."

"I think your building is still standing. Very few people used explosives in the fighting."

"If it has..." Tim began nodding as his weak hope grew a little stronger. "If it has, then...it won't take weeks to find our way out. It might take some time to get up there, but it won't take weeks to find it."

"How will your apartment help with that?" Tobias asked.

"And there's sure to be some sort of wall blocking our exit," Gibbs pointed out.

"A wall that was always meant to come down," Tim said. "It won't be a problem...if my apartment survived. It will be a little more difficult if it hasn't, but still doable."

"Well, we'll have to be cautious anyway because we have no way of knowing what the surface is like."

"No," Tim said again, his smile widening. "No, you're wrong. We know exactly what the surface is like...at least in some areas...and we can get readings on the rest of it."

"How? How could you have seen it?"

"You've seen it, too, Tobias...so have you," he added to Gibbs. "...and so has Tony and Abby and Ducky...and Jimmy, but Jimmy knows that he has. He deserved to know."

"And we didn't?"

"You didn't need to know," Tim said. "...but you could have asked any of the geniuses, the computer ones anyway. We all knew, have known...have seen. That's one of the reasons why so many of us commit suicide."

"I don't get it," Gibbs said. "What do you mean?"

"There's a code inserted into one of the learning programs. I don't know how long it's been there or who did it first, but it's been more than a hundred years at least from what I could tell. It takes whoever finds it to...well..." Tim turned back to the computer and brought up a screen. "...to here. You enter in the double password and..." He typed it in and up came the beach. "...and you see the surface."

Tobias leaned back in his chair. "That's the...the surface? You mean...right now?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah. That's the surface above Sub Angeles...right now...more or less, anyway. That's the closest city to this place."

"How did this lead to more suicides?"

His face grave, Tim explained. "Think about it. You've just been shown the ultimate place of freedom. No walls. No ceiling. No prison. That either gives you the strength to keep going or it destroys your ability to cope completely...because you know you'll never get there. That's how I felt...and if it hadn't been for Sarah, I would have just died...but Sarah kept me trying and...and then, when I saw all the statistics, I knew we needed to go and I found more and more information about the surface which made me want to go."

"How are these things even around?"

"You all continually underestimate both me and the people who built these cities," Tim said with the merest hint of impatience. "Haven't you ever wondered how the GPS units work that allow the wristbands to be pinpointed within inches of a person's location? Haven't you ever wondered how it was possible to create a worldwide system that depended upon syncing people together and on a dependable system of communication?"

"I guess I haven't."

"Do you even know what GPS stands for?" Tim asked.

"No."

"Global Positioning _Satellite_."

The significance of the word was lost on Gibbs for a moment...but then he got it.

"Satellite...like...up in the sky going around the earth."

"Exactly. Well, the whole thing is called the Global Positioning System, but it's been in operation for centuries. More than a hundred satellites orbit the earth and continuously transmit information. It gets down here via an extensive relay system that bounces the signals into our databases. It's amazingly complex and amazingly accurate. ...and it's not ever failed. There are automatic failsafes in place to maintain the integrity of the system. It's a miracle that it's lasted so long without human intervention...but it has. They knew what they were doing. They didn't want to go back to subsistence living. They wanted to have us down where we could be safe while the cleanup began." He switched views. "You can see for yourselves. It's a whole beautiful world out there. They succeeded. They did it. ...they just didn't count on...on us, on mankind being what it is. ...and people make assumptions about what I believe as if I would risk believing in anything that wasn't clearly proven. When I said that I knew that the surface was viable, I wasn't lying. I knew because I'd seen it. I've seen the replanting programs. I've seen the cleanup programs. It's all real...and it's waiting for us to return."

Tim suddenly stopped talking and actually blushed at the passion in his own voice.

"Sorry...it's just that..."

"That you're excited," Gibbs said. "Nothing wrong with that, McGee. In fact, it's almost a relief."

"A relief?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you could _be_ excited."

Tim looked down in embarrassment.

"Part of my training, I guess."

"Why do we need to go to your apartment?"

"Because I have the key to open the door...and the map of how to get there."

"Where?" Gibbs asked. "There was nothing in your apartment."

"I guess Abby never told you what she found?"

Gibbs was surprised enough that Abby had managed to keep a secret from him that he didn't even think to answer.

"I guess not. I have a...space that I kept hidden. Abby found it, although she didn't get inside... No one has been in there except for me. If it's still safe, then, I can get to the surface."

"Tim...if you knew all this already, if you had it organized...why didn't you go before?"

Tim shrugged and looked away...back to the screen.

"Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't...think I could. I figured they'd stop me. I didn't want to fail...and I would have had to go through the crawler tunnels. I...I couldn't do that...and...while Sarah was alive...it would have been wrong to leave her. I never believed I'd make it. It was just something I wanted...but couldn't have."

Gibbs smiled sadly. "Believe it, Tim. You're going to make it...no matter what."

"How can you promise something like that when you have no way of being sure?"

"I _am_ sure. You'll make it up there, if that's what you want to do. Is it?"

"Yes," Tim said so softly it was almost inaudible.

"Then, we'll do whatever it takes to get you there."

"Why?"

"You don't have to ask that, Tim. You know why," Tobias said.

Tim nodded but wouldn't look at them. He was afraid to see anything that might dash his fragile expectations.

"Believe, Tim. Take a chance and believe it," Gibbs said put a hand on Tim's shoulder.

Tim lifted his head, almost hesitantly. The look in his eyes was that of a child's desperate hope, willing to try again...and maybe this time he wouldn't be disappointed.

"Okay." Tim smiled. "Let's go."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Two transports slowed to a stop in front of a building and Tim got out of one. Abby hopped out as well.

"Tim, I want to come in! I want to see what it looks like!"

Tim looked back over his shoulder. "It's not really that exciting, Abby."

"It doesn't matter. I didn't get to see it before. You have to let me see it now!"

"Let her go with you, McGee," Tony said from the other transport. "You'll only lose if you try to fight her."

Abby grinned and gestured for Tim to get moving. He gave in and led her inside. This part of the city was strangely empty...and relatively unmarred. It surprised him to walk inside, up the stairs and stop in front of a door he hadn't seen in months. This was where Kort had left Sarah's body.

"You all right?" Abby asked.

"Yeah. Fine." With a deep breath, he punched in the code for his door and stepped inside. Once in his apartment, he made a beeline for the one place in there that mattered. He stopped at the closet and put his hand on the wall beside the false one. A tracing of his hand appeared and the wall descended.

"Wow. That's cool. I would never have though of looking there."

"That's why I put it there," Tim said with a smile. The room wasn't large and there wasn't much in it, but Abby stepped forward eagerly to peer inside. There was a table along one wall and then, covering all the available space was an image of the sky. It was like stepping into the stars. When Abby moved over the threshold, the stars began to glow and she smiled in surprised delight.

"Wow," she said again. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks," Tim said and looked around for a moment before walking to the table. He tapped it in a rhythmic sequence and it opened.

"What's that?"

"That...is the key to the door," Tim said, picking up a small rectangular device. It had what looked like a scanner on one side and a stylized insignia of an eagle on the other. "This is the map we'll need to follow through the tunnels."

"You had this the whole time?"

"Not the whole time. I came across the card when I was working in the library. The map...I've had that since I was at MIT. I just hid it in my stuff before."

"You ready to go?"

Tim felt the twisting in his gut that was an uncomfortable mixture of painful excitement and deep-rooted fear.

"Yeah. I'm ready. It's going to take a long time to get up there, you know. You don't have to come."

"Are you kidding? After hearing you talk about it, sing about it...do you really think I could _not_ come?" Abby grinned and grabbed Tim's arm. "I don't think I could possibly want it as much as you do, but I'm totally excited to see what open space looks like."

Tim smiled and let her drag him out of the hidden room, out of the apartment and down to the transports.

"You got what you need, Tim?" Tobias asked from the second transport.

"Got it."

"Then, get in the transport and let's get going," Gibbs said impatiently.

Tim began to walk toward the front seat and then he stopped.

"Ziva?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"You should get in the front."

"Why?"

Tim swallowed. "I...I think I'll have some trouble in parts of the trip...and I'll need to be in back."

Ziva looked at Ducky who just nodded to her and gestured. She got out and touched Tim's hand. He smiled tentatively and they continued on their way.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs slowed to a stop when heard Tim's heavy breathing from the back. He turned around.

"You all right?"

Ducky had a comforting arm around Tim's shoulders, but Tim was leaning forward, his hands covering his ears.

"Tim?"

"Bad memories, I'm afraid, Jethro," Ducky said.

"Tell me they're not out there, Ducky," Tim said softly.

"They're not, Timothy. They are buried, years ago. It's long in the past."

"Should we stop?"

"No...just keep going. There's no other way...just keeping going."

"Tim," Ziva said, "it will be all right. You will see." She climbed over the seat, nearly kicking Gibbs in the face and sat on the other side of Tim. "You are not alone in here...and they are not out there. It is all right."

Gibbs stepped on the accelerator and the crunching sound increased...as did the plopping sounds on the roof of the transport. The crawler tunnels had been seeded with crawlers and every so often, the maintenance workers would strew organics to keep them proliferating in the correct spaces. As they reached the heart of the tunnels, Tim groaned.

"We're at a fork. Which way?"

"I feel sick."

"Timothy, which tunnel?"

Tim swallowed a couple of times.

"Right. Go right."

Ziva touched Tim's hands and then gently pulled them down.

"That is not doing you any good, I think...yes?"

"Not much," Tim said, trying to smile.

"Then, listen to me."

"What?"

"I have been wanting to say this for some time...but it never seemed to be the _right_ time."

"What?"

"I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Yes. You helped me understand which side was the correct side to be on...and I am glad of it."

Tim was still pale but he was listening, even as he shuddered at the continual sounds of crawlers meeting their doom.

"I hate the sound."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah...why would you thank me for that? After all you had to give up?"

"I did not have to give up anything worth keeping."

"Your family?"

Ziva's eyes darkened. "My brother and sister are dead. My father is the director of the NIU...or he was. My mother had the sense to leave when she could. I do not know where she is. I possessed nothing that I wished to keep. You showed me that there was much worth _seeking_. I am only sorry that it took me so long to understand."

"Three tunnels this time, Tim. Which one?"

"Left. And from here on out, choose whichever tunnel is going upward. We have..." Tim winced at the sound again. "...a long way to go."

"But it will be worth it," Ziva said firmly and took a hold of his hand. "It will be worth it."

Tim squeezed her hand tightly and nodded...before he closed his eyes once more.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How you doing, Jimmy?" Tony asked, a few hours later. They had thankfully left the crawler tunnels behind after rising high enough that no one maintained the tunnels. It had become extremely bumpy but nothing that the transports couldn't handle. The people inside the transports were another matter.

"Fine, as long as I keep my eyes closed."

"Then, do it. Abby?"

"I've never been this far in the tunnels before...I don't know if I'm excited or terrified."

"I know what I am," Tobias muttered.

"What's that?" Tony asked.

"Wondering why I thought this was a good idea."

Tony laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so...adventurous. It was like being a whole other person and he felt...free. It was a strange feeling because he'd never realized that he felt trapped until the oppression had vanished. Now, he wanted to see what it was that Tim wanted so badly. It might be worth having, after all.

"Whoa, Tony, did you see that?" Abby asked, sitting up suddenly.

"See what? I was watching the...tunnel."

"That!" Abby leaned forward from the back seat and pointed up ahead. Tony caught a brief glimpse of...something. He wasn't sure what it was.

"What was that?"

"I don't know!"

Tony hit the call button to the other transport. "Hey, guys what's that up there?"

He was happy to hear Tim's voice sounding normal again. His tremulous words after the last fork in the tunnel had been saddening to hear.

"_I think it's better seen rather than explained. Just wait a few more minutes. We'll get there."_

"To the surface?"

"_Oh, no. We have a while yet before we get to that point. This is something else. A real piece of history."_

"You just love milking this for what it's worth, don't you, McGee."

"_I'm just practicing, Tony. You said I needed more rehearsal time before you'd let me be a real human being."_

"Don't practice on _me_, McGee! I'm the judge!"

"_All the more reason to emulate you."_

"You're making a joke, aren't you. You're kidding around at my expense!"

"_Wait..."_ Tim's voice became awed. _"...look ahead, Tony."_

Abby's hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "Wow."

Tony pulled up alongside the other transport which had stopped and he stared through the windshield and then opened the door.

"What is this?" he asked.

Tim opened his door as well and stepped out of the transport. "This is the original Mammoth settlement."

"It's so...empty."

Tim nodded. There was a dim ambient light coming from the ceiling of the cavern. Even though it was significantly smaller than the deeper Mammoth city, because this was so obviously empty and abandoned, it felt much larger. There were a few buildings, but mostly they were degraded to unstable hulks.

"This is where we lived first?"

Tim nodded again, his voice was hushed. "They built the other city a couple of centuries after moving down here. Construction began almost immediately, but they hadn't perfected the sonic cutters yet and so work was slow."

"You knew this was here?" Tobias asked.

"Yeah. I did. I didn't have any images of it. I just knew it existed."

"So...where do we go from here?" Ziva asked, leaning out the window.

"To the city center and then left."

"How much further is it?" Jimmy asked.

"A few more hours drive. It'll probably get much rougher. People haven't been in this section of the caves for a very long time."

"Anyone need a break?" Gibbs asked.

Tobias was looking around at the decaying city.

"Will we see anything like this on the surface, Tim?" he asked.

"I don't think so. Definitely not where we come out. It's possible that some of the cities might still exist to some degree, but I'm guessing that a lot will be decayed to virtually nothing. It'll be mostly forest around here."

"Forest," Ducky said. "That seems unbelievable...and yet, I know you wouldn't lie about it. I admit that I cannot fathom an actual forest."

Tim smiled. "It's nothing like the tree farms."

"Well, then, let's get going!" Gibbs said. He hadn't even stepped out of the transport, although he'd been looking as much as everyone else.

With a smile Tony saluted. The closer they got, the more excited he was to see where Tim had led them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They had driven through the night with only two stops to rest. Jimmy had needed a break from the jolting that made him feel the close quarters too much, and they'd taken a break to sleep for a couple of hours. Other than that and the occasional potty break, they made steady upward progress...until they reached the wall. The tunnel itself had narrowed significantly, but the transports had made it through. Gibbs had seen the headlights bouncing off the dull metallic surface and had stopped in time. Everyone got out in silence. The surface was on the other side of this wall. ...something they had never seen, had never experienced...something that _no one_ had ever experienced in more than a thousand years. As excited as they might be, there was a feeling of...almost anxiety which made their hearts beat all the faster. They were confronting the unknown.

"Wh-Where's the exit, McGee?" Tony asked finally, stammering a little as he stared at the hulking wall.

"I'm not sure exactly. Do you have a portable light?"

Gibbs grabbed one from the transport and tossed it to Tim who headed over to one side and began to scan the wall carefully. They didn't know what he was looking for, but they were willing to wait.

"Jimmy, are you all right?" Ducky asked.

"Just excited, Uncle Don," Jimmy said with a smile. "...Mom and Dad would be so happy to know that I was making it. That's what they wanted, you know."

"I know. They'd be proud of who you are."

Jimmy flushed at the compliment and ducked his head.

"Found it," Tim said softly. He pointed to a dimly-glowing panel. "Are you ready?"

"Are you, Probie?"

"Yes."

"Then, open the door."

Tim nodded and placed his key over the glowing panel. At first, nothing happened and then there was a low rumbling sound and everyone stepped back.

The wall began to move...sliding jerkily from left to right, retracting into the wall beside Tim. A dim, cold light shone into the cave as the wall slid slowly open.

No one moved.

The wall was noisy and dust blew in, sparkling dimly in the light.

Then, the wall stopped abruptly half open. Ziva was standing, bathed in light and she said nothing. She only shaded her eyes and stared.

Still no one spoke.

Jimmy walked slowly over and stood beside her, staring out...and up.

Abby took a few steps and then stopped, turning back and reaching her hand to Gibbs who joined her and the two of them walked over to the opening...and both stopped.

Tony moved eagerly to the group standing motionless and stared. His expression was one of...some undefinable emotion.

Tobias walked back to the transports and turned them off. The only light now was coming from the opening. He then walked over to the edge of the wall and leaned on it as he looked out.

Ducky looked toward the opening and then back at Tim who was standing frozen beside the panel which was still glowing greenly.

"Timothy," he whispered, reluctant to break the silence.

Tim shook his head and didn't move, not even when Jimmy took a step and disappeared from his view.

Forsaking the opening for the moment, Ducky walked over to Tim.

"Timothy, come. See."

Tim was shaking. He seemed unable to move, his eyes fixed on Ziva, Tony and Tobias following Jimmy's example.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Why not?"

"It's going to disappear...be gone. I can't...I won't..."

"If it is there now, it will remain, Timothy," Ducky said. "Not everything disappears when in reach. Believe."

"I don't think I can."

"You are so close, Timothy. You have come so very far. Don't give up now, not at the end."

Abby and Gibbs stepped through as well.

"What if there's nothing there?" Tim asked, pressed against the wall. "What if I was wrong? What if it's all a lie?"

"It's not. You're not wrong. There is a world out there."

"How can you be sure? You haven't seen it."

"Because you know...and I trust you."

Tim laughed. "I'm so dumb. I can't make myself walk over there."

"Not dumb...just afraid. Take a risk. Risk being disappointed, Timothy. You know you won't be."

Ducky walked over to the opening. Tim stayed where he was.

"Come, Timothy."

Tim looked back down the tunnel toward the place that had been his prison.

"Don't look back. Look forward. You've lived in the past or in a single moment of pain for most of your life. Risk looking forward."

Ducky smiled and then stepped out.

Tim stood alone in the dark, staring longingly at the light. He fought against every partical of him which was screaming that it was all a lie, that there was never any value in hoping for something. He would only be disappointed.

_Go. Walk. Take a step._

One step...forward.

He remembered all the lies he'd been told, lies meant to goad him into working harder.

Another step forward.

He remembered the punishments for not working enough.

A third step.

He remembered Ducky saving him...Sarah being there as his sanctuary although she never knew it.

One more step...and then another.

He remembered the NIU team sacrificing everything they knew for him because they believed it was the right thing to do.

Step number six.

He remembered Tobias living his whole life to one carefully-planned goal.

A seventh step brought him level with the opening. He took the eighth step and closed his eyes, holding onto the wall. A hand on his shoulder. That was the one thing that had made him remember who he was. Tim remembered his father was fond of coming up behind him and taking his shoulder, giving him a supporting squeeze. It was synonymous with him saying that he loved him.

"Open your eyes, Timothy."

Tim opened his eyes...and saw that he wasn't actually outside. It made him laugh in surprise.

A set of fragile rock steps led up to the light.

"That's kind of...ironic, isn't it?"

"Just keep going," Ducky said smiling.

Tim nodded and walked forward.

"You want to lead the way, Tim?" Tobias asked.

"Do you trust me to do it?"

"I've trusted you this far."

Tim nodded and began to carefully negotiate his way up the stairs. It took some time to reach the top. There were trees growing thickly over the opening, but once he started moving, Tim couldn't stop, he looked at the trees. The leaves were turning reds and oranges and yellows. It was something Tim had seen pictures and videos of...but he was struck by the beauty of seeing them close to...of seeing the real thing. His pace increased and he forgot about the others behind him. He reached up and pulled a red leaf off one of the trees and just stared at it for a while. Then, he walked further.

"Timothy, slow down!"

Tim could no more make himself stop moving than he could make himself start before. It was as if he was being pulled along. The sun was so bright. ...so bright.

He reached a clearing in the trees. There had plainly been something here before, but all that was left were a few blocks of eroded concrete...but he stopped and looked up at the sky. He couldn't speak, could no longer move. He just stood and stared upward, even though the light hurt his eyes.

"Timothy, are you all right?"

Tim turned around and looked at Ducky, a feeling a wide smile on his lips.

"Ducky...it's the sun!" He pointed. "It's the sun! The sky! Can you see it?"

"Yes, lad, I can see it."

Tim looked up again. "It's real. It's really there. Can you believe it?"

"I believe it."

Tim laughed and began to cry. Then, hardly knowing what he was doing he hugged Ducky tightly.

"Ducky...I'm here. I'm free."

Ducky hugged him back.

"You were always free...but now your spirit is free."

The others finally caught up. Ducky looked at Jimmy who was breathing as though he'd never been able to take a real breath before. Abby was pointing to the leaves and showing Gibbs that they matched her shirt. Ziva was just standing silently, taking in all the details. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. Tobias was nodding. Tony looked at Tim.

"It's different, McGee."

Tim wiped at his eyes and laughed again. "Worth seeing?"

Tony looked around and then looked up, squinting at the sky. "Yeah...yeah, I think it's worth seeing. I think this was worth fighting for, McGee."

"Told you."

"You were right."

Tim nodded and looked around.

"It's worth it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They camped in the mouth of Mammoth cave that night, but Tim couldn't sleep. He felt too alive, too much energy surging through his veins to sleep. Once everyone was asleep, he got up and walked back to the clearing. He looked up at the stars. There they were, large as life, bright and sparkling...out of his physical reach but drawing his soul upward. Tears trickled down his cheeks again and he began to sing without even consciously considering what song was needed.

"_Calling all dreamers and optimistic fools  
__Don't let go of your dreams make it now, make it all come true  
__If you believe in a brighter day  
__I know we can find our way..."_

A hand on his shoulder.

"You've found your way indeed, Timothy."

"I feel like I'm finally home, Ducky...like I'm finally alive, really alive."

"Is it all you wanted?"

Tim nodded, never looking away from the stars. "And more." He stared in silence. "Everyone needs to see."

"And they will get the chance. We'll make sure of it."

"I'm really free, Ducky. Finally...after all this time...I'm free."

FINIS!


End file.
